Figner singer. Vera Figner - Russian revolutionary: biography, interesting facts from life
Well, there’s no need to be modest,” one of the interlocutors interrupted him. - We know your daguerreotype portrait. It’s not that you weren’t ugly, but you were handsome.
- The handsome man is so handsome, but that’s not the point. But the fact is that during this, my strongest love for her, I was on the last day of Maslenitsa at a ball hosted by the provincial leader, a good-natured old man, a rich hospitable man and a chamberlain. He was received by his wife, who was as good-natured as he, in a velvet puce dress, with a diamond feronniere on her head and with open old, plump, white shoulders and breasts, like portraits of Elizaveta Petrovna. The ball was wonderful; the hall is beautiful, with choirs, the musicians are famous serfs of the amateur landowner at that time, there is a magnificent buffet and a sea of champagne poured out. Although I was a lover of champagne, I didn’t drink, because without wine I was drunk with love, but I danced until I dropped, danced quadrilles, waltzes, and polkas, of course, as far as possible, all with Varenka. She was wearing a white dress with a pink belt and white kid gloves that did not reach her thin, sharp elbows, and white satin shoes. The Mazurka was taken from me; the disgusting engineer Anisimov - I still can’t forgive him for this - invited her, she just came in, and I stopped by the hairdresser and for gloves and was late. So I danced the mazurka not with her, but with a German girl whom I had courted a little before. But, I’m afraid, that evening I was very discourteous with her, did not speak to her, did not look at her, but saw only a tall, slender figure in a white dress with a pink belt, her radiant, flushed face with dimples and gentle, sweet eyes. I'm not the only one, everyone
they looked at her and admired her, both men and women admired her, despite the fact that she eclipsed them all. It was impossible not to admire.
According to the law, so to speak, I did not dance the mazurka with her, but in reality I danced almost all the time with her. She, without embarrassment, walked straight across the hall to me, and I jumped up without waiting for an invitation, and she thanked me with a smile for my insight. When we were brought to her and she did not guess my quality, she, giving her hand not to me, shrugged her thin shoulders and, as a sign of regret and consolation, smiled at me. When they did the mazurka waltz figures, I waltzed with her for a long time, and she, breathing quickly, smiled and told me: “Encore” [More (French)]. And I waltzed again and again and did not feel my body.
Read the full story. - Very interesting story from a psychological point of view. By the way, they report online that the story is textbook, that it is taught in schools and essays are written on it. And I just read it for the first time.
In the above excerpt it is quite interesting how horse people, mazurka, waltz and cotillion are mixed together.
The Russian Revolution, oddly enough, coincided with the rapid feminization of women. More and more girls in the late 19th and early 20th centuries abandoned the role of wife and mother and plunged into active struggle not only for their rights, but also for human rights in general. One of the prominent participants in the revolutionary movement at the turn of the century was Vera Figner, who went down in history by preparing a daring assassination attempt on Emperor Alexander II.
Origin
The famous revolutionary Vera Nikolaevna Figner, as was usually the case in the emerging revolutionary movement, was noble origin. In the autobiography she wrote in Moscow in 1926, already a deeply convinced revolutionary, she indicated that Alexander Alexandrovich Figner, her paternal grandfather, was a nobleman from Livonia (the territory of the modern Baltic states). In 1828, being with the rank of lieutenant colonel, he was assigned to the nobility in the Kazan province.
There were also landowners on the maternal side. Vera Nikolaevna’s grandfather, Khristofor Petrovich Kupriyanov, was one of the large landowners, he served. He owned lands in Tetyushinsky district and Ufa province. However, only 400 acres of the village of Khristoforovka remained of his wealth, which went to her mother. Father, Nikolai Alexandrovich Figner, retired in 1847 with the rank of staff captain.
Childhood
Vera Figner herself was born in 1852 in the Kazan province. There were five more children in the family: sisters Lydia, Evgenia and Olga, brothers Nikolai and Peter. Remembering her parents, the future terrorist wrote that they were completely different in temperament, but at the same time energetic and strong-willed, and also incredibly active. These qualities, she recalls, were instilled to one degree or another in all children, each of whom, probably thanks to their harsh upbringing, left their mark on history.
Vera Figner, whose biography is detailed in her book “Sealed Work,” wrote that in her childhood the child was not recognized as an individual, and there was also no kinship between parents and children. The basis of upbringing was the strictest discipline, Spartan habits were instilled. Moreover, the brothers were also subjected to corporal punishment. The only close person for the children was their old nanny Natalya Makarevna. And yet, Vera Figner notes that there were never quarrels in the family, no swear words were heard, “and there were no lies.” Because of her father’s service, the family lived in the village and was deprived of the conventions of city life, and therefore, says Vera Nikolaevna, “we knew neither hypocrisy, nor gossip and slander.”
Youth
As a result or in spite of it, all the offspring of the family came out, as they say, into people: Peter became a major Nikolai - a famous opera singer. But the sisters, all three, devoted themselves to the revolutionary struggle.
And Vera Nikolaevna Figner, whose brief biography is presented in our review, also devoted herself to the bright cause of the revolution.
Childhood ended when the girl was assigned to the Kazan Rodionovsky School. Education was based on religious dogmas, to which Vera remained indifferent, going deeper and deeper into atheism. The training lasted six years, during which the girl went home for vacation only four times.
After graduating from the institute, Vera Figner returned home to the village. As she herself wrote, in the wilderness they were visited only by Uncle Pyotr Kupriyanov, who knew perfectly well the ideas of Chernyshevsky, Dobrolyubov and Pisarev, as well as the teaching of utilitarianism, which the young girl was imbued with. She had no direct acquaintance with the peasantry, real life and reality, as she aptly noted, passed her by, which had an unfavorable effect on her acquaintance with life and people.
External influence
Figner’s first acquaintance with serious literature occurred at the age of 13, when her uncle Kupriyanov allowed her to take the annual volume of the magazine “Russian Word” with her to the institute. However, the works read there did not have any influence on the girl. At the institute, reading was prohibited, and the books that the mother gave were related to fiction and influenced more sensuality than intellectual development. Serious journalism did not fall into her hands until a certain time.
The first strong impression on her was made by the novel “Alone in the Field is No Warrior” by Spielhagen. Oddly enough, Vera Figner noted the Gospel as an important book for herself. Despite her commitment to atheism, she extracted from the book of life principles that guided her entire life. In particular, complete dedication of oneself to the once chosen goal. Nekrasov’s poem “Sasha,” which taught not to separate word from deed, completed the formation of the ideological foundation of the personality of the future revolutionary.
Marriage
The desire to be useful, to bring as much happiness as possible to as many people as possible, logically gave rise to her desire to study as an aesculapian. She decided to study medicine in Switzerland. But she managed to realize this intention only in 1870, after she married the young investigator Alexei Viktorovich Filippov. Having once heard how the suspect was being interrogated and seeing the vileness in it, she convinced her husband to quit this occupation and go with her to receive a medical education at the University of Zurich.
Arriving abroad, Vera Nikolaevna Figner first became acquainted and imbued with the ideas of socialism, communes, and The choice of side for socialist transformations began with visits to the “French” circle in Zurich, where she met the French socialists Cabet, Saint-Simon, Fourier, Louis Blanc, Proudhon. As she herself noted, what prompted her to choose the side of the revolution was not so much a keen sense of justice as “the cruelty of the suppression of revolutionary movements by the ruling class.”
Return to Russia
In 1875, members of the “Fritch” circle who came to Russia to promote socialist ideas among the working class were arrested. Having received a call from her comrades to renew revolutionary ties in Russia, Vera Figner - the biography briefly touches on her experiences and doubts on this matter - was forced to leave her studies at the university and return to her homeland. Her doubts were related to the fact that she was abandoning the task halfway, although she always considered this cowardice. In Russia, she nevertheless passed the exams to become a paramedic. After five years of marriage, she divorced her husband, who did not share her passion for the revolution, and went to St. Petersburg.
By the mid-70s of the 19th century, a new revolutionary center began to form, the program of which carried not just revolutionary romance, but also concrete actions. In particular, a real struggle with the authorities. Then for the first time they started talking about the use of dynamite in wrestling.
In 1878, the first revolutionary shot was fired, changing the direction of this movement in Russia. Vera Zasulich shot at the St. Petersburg mayor Trepov. This was revenge for the corporal punishment that one political convict suffered for not taking off his cap in front of his superiors. After this, acts of retaliation with the use of terror took place throughout the country.
Creation of "People's Will"
Vera Figner, although she was not directly part of the “Land and Freedom” movement, nevertheless joined it with ideas and her own autonomous circle of “separatists.” Participated in the organization's congress in Voronezh. However, as she wrote, nothing was agreed upon at the congress. The compromise boiled down to continuing revolutionary education in the countryside and at the same time fighting the government. The compromise, as usual, led to the division of the movement. Those who considered it necessary to actively fight the government and saw their task as overthrowing the autocracy united in the People's Will party. Vera Figner joined its executive committee.
Members of the new party were extremely determined. Several members of the organization were preparing dynamite, and the rest were developing a plan to assassinate Emperor Alexander II. Vera Figner, whose photo tells us about a thin and whole girl, but not about a terrorist, took an active part in preparing assassination attempts in Odessa in 1880 and in St. Petersburg in 1881. Initially, her participation was not planned, but, as she herself wrote, “my tears softened my comrades,” and she took part in her first terrorist attack.
A hair's breadth away from the death penalty
The entire organization fell into the hands of the detectives in 1883. Vera spent 20 months in the Peter and Paul Fortress in complete isolation. She was then put on trial and sentenced to death penalty, which was replaced with indefinite hard labor. She spent twenty years in Shlisselburg. In 1904 she was sent to Arkhangelsk, then to Kazan province. After being transferred to Nizhny Novgorod, she was allowed to leave Russia, and in 1906 she went abroad to treat her nervous system.
She returned to her homeland only in 1915, was elected after However, she did not accept the October Revolution and never became a member of the Communist Party. In 1932, the year of her eightieth birthday, a complete collection of works was published in seven volumes, which included her main opus - the novel “Sealed Work” about the Russian revolutionary movement.
Vera Nikolaevna Figner(by Filippova’s husband; June 25 (July 7), 1852, the village of Khristoforovka, Tetyushsky district, Kazan province - June 15, 1942, Moscow) - Russian revolutionary, terrorist, member of the Executive Committee of the People's Will, later a Socialist Revolutionary.
Brother Nikolai is outstanding Opera singer, younger sister Lydia is a revolutionary populist.
Biography
Born into the family of Nikolai Alexandrovich Figner (1817-1870), a retired staff captain since 1847. He served in the Tetyushsky district of the Kazan province under the department of the Ministry of State Property, received the rank of provincial secretary, then as a forester in the Tetyushsky and Mamadyshsky forestries. He was married to Ekaterina Khristoforovna Kupriyanova (1832-1903). They had six children: Vera, Lydia, Peter, Nikolai, Evgenia and Olga.
In 1863-1869 she studied at the Kazan Rodionov Institute for Noble Maidens. In this institution, special attention was paid to the religious education of students, but Vera becomes a convinced atheist, having, however, taken from the Gospel “certain principles”, such as “devoting oneself entirely to the chosen goal” and “other highest moral values”, which she subsequently linked specifically with revolutionary work. Entered Kazan University.
Since October 18, 1870 (they got married in a rural church in Nikiforovo) she has been married to judicial investigator Alexei Viktorovich Filippov. Together with her husband, she went to Switzerland with the goal of completing her medical education there (marriage was a typical way for early Russian feminism to “escape” from parents and choose one’s own path in life).
In 1872 Vera Finger She entered the medical faculty of the University of Zurich, where she met the populist Sofia Bardina and the circle of Russian students (the so-called “Fritch”) that formed around her. “All the students were crazy about her,” said V.K. Plehve, director of the Police Department and future Minister of the Interior. In 1873, she studied with them political economy, the history of socialist teachings and revolutionary development in Europe. Claimed that her beloved literary hero- Rakhmetov.
There are natures that do not bend; they can only be broken, broken to death, but not bent to the ground. Among them is Vera Nikolaevna...
S. Ivanov
“I just “adored” it, literally adored it to the point of religious ecstasy.” Vera Figner Gleb Uspensky. The news of her arrest shocked him: “He even burst into tears and could not calm down for a long time.” On the day the verdict in the “14” case was announced, the writer managed to give Vera Figner, who had just been sentenced to death, a note: “How I envy you! Gleb Uspensky.
In 1874, she began studying at the University of Bern, where she met P.L. Lavrov and M.A. Bakunin, after which the circle of “Frenchies” turned into the core of the “All-Russian Social Revolutionary Organization.” In 1875, without completing her education, at the request of her colleagues in the organization she returned to Russia, where she passed the exams for the title of medical assistant and divorced her husband, who did not share revolutionary views.
Since 1876 - participant in the “walking among the people”; conducted propaganda among peasants in the village of Students, Samara province. In 1878, she worked as a paramedic for 10 months in the village of Vyazmino, Saratov province.
Formally Vera Figner was not part of the “Land and Freedom” organization, but headed the autonomous circle of “separatists” it created (Alexander Ivanchin-Pisarev, Yuri Bogdanovich, Alexander Solovyov, etc.), which shared the platform of the Land Volyas and collaborated with them. In 1879 she participated in the Voronezh congress of land Volunteers. After the collapse of Land and Freedom, she joined the Executive Committee of the People's Will organization and campaigned among students and military personnel in St. Petersburg and Kronstadt. She participated in the preparation of assassination attempts on Alexander II in Odessa (1880) and St. Petersburg (1881). The only bright memory of her stay in Odessa was her meeting with “Sashka the Engineer” (F. Yurkovsky, who committed a robbery of the Kherson treasury on behalf of the organization), who gave her the nickname “Stamp the Leg.” When the writer Veresaev asked about the origin of this nickname, Figner smiled slyly: “Because beautiful women have the habit of stamping their feet.” After the murder of Alexander II, she was able to escape, being the only member of the organization not arrested by the police. Having left for Odessa, she participated (together with Stepan Khalturin) in the assassination attempt on military prosecutor V.S. Strelnikov.
In the spring of 1883, in Kharkov, she was handed over to the police by S.P. Degaev, arrested and put on trial. In September 1884, in the “Trial of 14,” Figner was sentenced to death by the St. Petersburg Military District Court.
I have often wondered if my life could have ended anywhere other than in the dock? And every time I answered myself: no!
After 9 days of waiting for the execution of the sentence, the execution was replaced by indefinite hard labor. In prison she began to write poetry. She tried to establish contact with political prisoners in the fortress (in particular, with N.M. Morozov and others), to organize collective protests against the difficult conditions of detention.
In 1904 she was sent into exile - first to Nenoksa in the Arkhangelsk province, then to the Kazan province, and from there to Nizhny Novgorod.
In 1906, she received permission to travel abroad for treatment. In 1907 she joined the Socialist Revolutionary Party, from which she left after the exposure of E.F. Azef.
In 1910, she initiated the creation of the “Paris Committee for Assistance to Political Prisoners,” and during its organization she became close to E. P. Peshkova. The committee's goal was to organize public opinion in the West to protect political prisoners in Russia and at the same time provide them with material assistance, for which it worked in England, Belgium, Holland, and Switzerland. Monetary contributions came from Hamburg and Bucharest, Naples and Chicago. Figner herself, who had mastered English and French well, constantly spoke at rallies, in private homes, and at student meetings. She has published a number of topical articles on political topics in foreign magazines. The style of her articles aroused the approval of I. A. Bunin: “This is who you should learn to write from!”
In 1915, upon returning to Russia at the border, she was arrested, convicted and exiled under police supervision to Nizhny Novgorod. In December 1916, thanks to brother Nikolai, soloist Imperial theaters, received permission to live in Petrograd.
February revolution of 1917 Vera Figner met as chairman of the Committee for Assistance to Released Convicts and Exiles. In March 1917, she participated in a demonstration of soldiers and workers demanding equal rights for women. At a reception hosted by the Chairman of the Provisional Government, Prince G. E. Lvov, she demanded that women voting rights in the elections to the Constituent Assembly. In April 1917, she was elected an honorary member of the All-Russian Congress of Teachers, a member of the Executive Committee of the All-Russian Council of Peasant Deputies; At the Second Congress of the Labor Group she called for the unification of populist groups into one party.
In May 1917, at the All-Russian Congress of Representatives of Soviets of the Party of Constitutional Democrats, she was elected its honorary member and became a member of the executive committee of this party. In June, she was elected by the cadets as a candidate member of the Constituent Assembly. She was a member of the so-called Pre-Parliament.
On June 18, 1917, she signed the appeal of the old revolutionaries to all citizens of Russia for continuing the war “to the victorious end.”
The October Revolution of 1917 was not accepted.
In May 1918, at the invitation of her niece Vera Sergeevna Stakhevich (daughter of Lydia’s sister), she moved from hungry Petrograd to the village of Lugan (Sevsky district, Oryol province). After the loss of her loved ones (sisters Olga, Lydia, and niece Vera Sergeevna Stakhevich died in Lugansk in 1919-1920), Vera Nikolaevna was left alone with her one-year-old great-nephew, the son of V.S. Stakhevich - Sergei. In March 1920, the wife of the famous chemist and former Narodnaya Volya member A. N. Bach arrived from Moscow and took Vera Nikolaevna to the capital. The child was taken and adopted by another niece of Vera Nikolaevna, Tatyana Sergeevna Stakhevich, who came for the boy from Ukraine.
In 1920, she wrote a two-volume “Sealed Work” about the history of the Russian revolutionary movement.
In the mid-1920s, she took part in the creation of the All-Union Society of Political Prisoners and Exiled Settlers, as well as in the organization of its activities (in 1928 there were at least 50 branches in different cities), as well as the activities of many others public organizations(about 15).
In 1927, among a group of “old revolutionaries,” she appealed to the Soviet government demanding an end to political repression, but her voice was not heard. On her 80th birthday (1932), a complete collection of her works was published in 7 volumes - a story about the horrors of life in the “royal dungeons” just at a time when the new government was creating new prisons and a punitive apparatus for new oppositionists. Figner never became a member of the Communist Party, although people generally perceived her as a communist. They asked her for support during the years of repression, she wrote appeals to the authorities, trying in vain to save people from death, turned for support to M.I. Kalinin, Yem. Yaroslavsky. She died on June 15, 1942 from pneumonia and was buried in Moscow at the Novodevichy Cemetery.
Assessment of merit by the Soviet government
In 1926, by a special resolution of the Council of People's Commissars, signed by V.V. Kuibyshev, V.N. Figner, among eight other “participants in the regicide on March 1, 1881,” was assigned a personal lifelong pension.
In 1922, Vera Nikolaevna’s 70th birthday was celebrated with a ceremonial meeting at the Museum of the Revolution.
On her 80th birthday in 1932, the oldest revolutionary was greeted by veterans of the revolutionary movement F. Kon and Emelyan Yaroslavsky. Messages about the celebrations were published in central newspapers.
In 1933, by the Decree of the Council of People's Commissars of the USSR, the pension was increased:
The Council of People's Commissars of the USSR decides:
Increase the amount of personal pensions for participants in the terrorist attack of March 1, 1881: Vera Nikolaevna Figner, Anna Vasilievna Yakimova-Dikovskaya, Mikhail Fedorovich Frolenko, Anna Pavlovna Pribyleva-Korba and Fani Abramovna Moreinis-Muratova - up to 400 rubles per month from January 1, 1933.
February 8, 1933, Moscow, Kremlin.
Addresses in St. Petersburg
Second half of August - mid-September 1879 - apartment building- Leshtukov lane, 15.
Beginning of January - April 3, 1881 - safe house of the EC "Narodnaya Volya" - embankment of the Catherine Canal, 78, apt. 8.
Memory
A minor planet ((1099) Figneria) was named after Figner in 1928.
Memorial plaque on the house in which V. N. Figner served her exile in 1904-1905. on the street named after her (the village of Nenoksa).
Bibliography
She wrote memoirs “Sealed Work” in 3 volumes, which were republished in the USSR in the 1920-1930s.
Vera Figner. Selected works in 3 volumes. M.: Publishing house of the All-Union Society of Political Prisoners and Exiled Settlers, 1933.
“Sealed Work” volume 1
“Sealed Work” Volume 2 When the clock of life stopped
After Shlisselburg (1929) Volume 3
Vera Figner. Complete works in 7 volumes.
Volume 5 Essays, articles, speeches
Volume 6 Letters
Volume 7 Letters after liberation
Poems by V. Figner/Democratic poets of the 1870-1880s. Poet's library. L., “Soviet Writer”, 1968
"The Trial of 14". Last word by V. N. Figner
Letter from V.N. Figner dated July 17, 1932
"The Trial of 14". Memoirs of Vera Figner
Artistic image
In 1885, Nadson, inspired by the image of Vera Figner and under the impression of the “Trial of 14,” wrote the poem “According to vague signs accessible to a few...”
Barkova, Anna. "Vera Figner"
Voinovich, Vladimir. Degree of trust. The story of Vera Figner. M.: Politizdat, 1972. (Series “Fiery Revolutionaries”). Reprint: Voinovich V. The Wooden Apple of Freedom: A Novel about turning point in the history of Russia. M.: Eksmo, 2008. - 384 p. - ISBN 978-5-699-29401-5.
Yevtushenko, Evgeniy. Chapter "Figner" from the poem "Kazan University" (1971)
Artsybashev, Boris. Portrait of V. N. Figner
Vera Figner is one of the most famous revolutionaries of the “old guard”.
During her incredible life, the woman managed to be a feminist, a revolutionary, a regicide, a prisoner, a convict, and a wife. From her youth she took the position of radical humanism. She always stood up for freedom and equality for everyone, she was an absolutely altruistic person, ready to go to the scaffold for the sake of bright ideas.
Vera Figner: biography
Born on the seventh of July (new style) 1852 in the Kazan Province.
Her family occupied a high position in society and was quite wealthy. My father worked as an official in the Ministry of State Property. He made a good career and was respected throughout the province. He had his own estate, in which Vera grew up. Besides her, there were five more children in the family. Elementary education received it at home. Her father was a man of rather progressive views, so Vera Nikolaevna studied all the basic sciences. At the age of eleven she entered Kazan. It was a standard educational institution for girls from wealthy families. There they were taught various “feminine” wisdom, in addition to studying ordinary subjects. In addition, in this particular institute, a huge place was given to religion. The girls were raised in the spirit of Christian humility. However, the more Vera Figner studied theology, the more atheistic she became. But at the same time she retained faith in some biblical virtues. It was the sense of altruism instilled in childhood that helped forge the steely will of the future revolutionary.
Independent life
At the age of eighteen, Vera decides to get married. In those days, this was the only way out for girls who wanted to escape parental care. In some ways, the girl’s marriage can be called fictitious. On October 18, Vera Figner married Alexei Filippov. After some time they emigrate to Switzerland. This "escape" is a consequence of Figner's feminist beliefs. In Zurich, she enters the medical faculty of the local university. There he makes his first acquaintances with Russian revolutionaries.
Meet the revolutionaries
Vera joins the company of populists led by Sofia Bardina. Together with other girls she discusses revolutionary ideas and the role of women in modern society. Even then, the features of her strong-willed character were noticeable. According to the recollections of various people, during her student years Vera Figner was very popular among her classmates. She knew how to gather people around her and instill confidence in their common cause. In Zurich he actively studies the history of the development of the socialist and revolutionary movement in Europe.
Always ready!
In seventy-four he moved to Bern, where he entered another university. Here he meets activists of the People's Will organization.
He devotes more and more time to studying left-wing political movements. He often communicates with Mikhail Bakunin. Around this time he finally decides to become a thorny path revolutionaries. At the request of the organization, Vera Nikolaevna Figner returns to Russia. There she gets a job as a paramedic in the simple village of Vyazmino. Moves to the wilderness to be closer to the people and conduct revolutionary agitation among the masses. The husband does not share Vera’s beliefs, and they divorce. While working in the village, Vera sees other revolutionaries. Participates in all congresses of socialist parties.
In 1979 he devoted himself entirely to revolutionary activities. Moves to St. Petersburg to agitate among local students and the military. Participates in the preparation of the assassination attempt on Emperor Alexander II. The Narodnaya Volya believed that it was the murder of the Tsar that would become the catalyst, the starting point that would launch the revolution in Russia. There was also a connection with the Polish intelligentsia, which stood for separatism and promised to act in the event of the death of the Tsar.
Assassination
Various radical groups repeatedly carried out assassination attempts on the imperial person. Alexander II, despite a number of reforms, including the abolition of serfdom, was considered the culprit of all the troubles of the people. For the assassination attempt on Alexander, his visit to St. Petersburg to participate in various ceremonies was chosen. "People's Will" decided to blow up the emperor's carriage as he drove along the Catherine Canal. The preparations took quite a long time. In advance, the revolutionaries bought a shop from which they dug a tunnel under the bridge. It was planned to plant a bomb there.
However, during the king's visit, his route changed. The Narodnaya Volya had to urgently change the plan. As a result, two revolutionaries, Grinevitsky and Rysakov, received homemade bombs in their hands and took places on the street along which Alexander was supposed to pass. When the imperial carriage arrived, Rysakov threw a bomb, but only wounded the Tsar's guards. After this, Alexander got out of the carriage to look at the wounded Cossacks. It was at this moment that Grinevitsky detonated his bomb, killing himself and the Tsar.
Arrest
Vera Figner did not personally participate directly in the assassination attempt. However, she collected information and was preparing this terrorist act. After the execution of the leaders of Narodnaya Volya, Figner departs for Kharkov.
But in 1983, she was found on a tip from one of the infiltrated agents. A Russian revolutionary ends up behind bars. A high-profile trial begins. Despite the closed nature, many representatives of the intelligentsia and foreign emigration are closely monitoring the progress of the case. As a result, in the fall of 1844, Vera Nikolaevna was sentenced to death. She accepted the verdict with cold contempt and said that she never thought that her life could end differently.
However, later the court replaced the execution with lifelong hard labor. While in difficult conditions of confinement, Figner wrote poetry and even continued her political activities. She got in touch with many prisoners and organized strikes. In 1904, her punishment was changed somewhat and she was sent into exile. After the 1905 revolution, the tsarist regime became wary of revolutionaries who might take on the image of martyrs. Therefore, Vera is allowed to travel abroad for treatment.
Second emigration
Having left for Paris, Figner continues to conduct social activities. Personally creates a committee to help political prisoners. Travels throughout Europe, collecting money to help Russian victims of the regime.
He often writes articles and notes about life in his homeland in foreign newspapers, trying to attract public attention to this problem. In 1515, the First World War raged in Europe. Vera Nikolaevna decides to return to Russia. She is detained at the border and again sent into exile. However, after a while she is allowed to live in the capital after the guarantee of her brother.
Change of wind
After the start of the February Revolution, he took part in several demonstrations. However active participation does not accept. He devotes more and more time to the problems of former political prisoners.
Compiles lists of exiles and convicts to then submit to the Provisional Government. Advocates for equal rights for women and demands the opportunity to be elected to the Constituent Assembly.
Vera Nikolaevna also did not support the October Revolution. After the establishment of Soviet power, she stayed away from politics. The revolutionary lived a long life. On birthdays and anniversaries, the authorities organized events in her honor. Despite her aloofness from politics, everyone in the party knew who Vera Figner was. The revolutionary's memoirs were republished several times. Vera Nikolaevna died on June fifteenth, 1942.
V.N. Figner
Full composition of writings
Volume 5
Essays, articles, speeches
PREFACE
In this volume, for the first time, the following chapters are published: “Genealogy”, “Grandfather”, “Father”, “Mother”, providing autobiographical data, which at the beginning of the 1st volume of “Sealed Work” is mentioned only in passing, on less than two pages of text.
At the end of the volume are placed some speeches, more or less accidentally preserved, delivered at various times at public meetings on one or another occasion, one way or another connected with our revolutionary movement.
The rest is much most of volume represents a collection of my literary works, appearing since 1908 in periodical and non-periodical press (“Rusek. Wealth”, “Russk. Notes”, “Russian Vedomosti”, Encyclopedic Dictionary of Granat, etc.) in the form of individual articles, feuilletons, biographies or individual books, like " Student years”, or brochures: “Wives of the Decembrists”, “Trial of 50”.
The reading public is probably partly familiar with all of this, separately, but now in the complete collected works it will be at hand in one volume.
April 1929
Vera Figner.
PEDIGREE
“Where do you get these completely un-Russian qualities?” an acquaintance once asked me in London, speaking about my precision and businesslike accuracy.
“It’s all from heredity,” I laughed without thinking.
Heredity! People are so interested in it and explain so much now: they look for elements of the character of this or that person in it, they study its genealogy, not limiting itself to just the parents.
But I grasped it late: my father died long ago, and I didn’t have to ask my mother about the conditions of my life. Now there is no one to turn to with questions.
My father, Nikolai Alexandrovich Figner, and mother, Ekaterina Khristoforovna (nee Kupriyanova), are nobles of the Kazan province; but the small estate Stukalovo, inherited by his father from his mother, Evgenia Ilyinishna Figner, née Kruzhevnikova, was located in Ardatovsky district, Nizhny Novgorod province.1.
1 She got it from the Guryanovs.
My father said that our ancestors came from Sweden, and as a child I heard from him more than once that the famous, insanely brave and cruel partisan of the War of 1812, Alexander Samoilovich Figner, was our grandfather. But the facts contradict this.
In the brochure by N. D. Mikhailov: “Partisans of the 12th year” (“Domestic Library”, No. 5, 1910, St. Petersburg), published on the occasion of the centenary of the war with Napoleon I, it is indicated that the ancestors of the partisan Figner left Germany during the reign of Peter I, and in the family archive of my late brother Nikolai Nikolaevich there is an old, large-format gramota with the seal and coat of arms of the French eagle, in the name of Fugue Mr. von Rudmersbach, indicating descent from the South German knights. According to the information of his brother and the archine of the Pskov archaeological island, there was a document stating that the partisan came from the Figner family from Germany and his ancestors were called Fugner von Rudme rsba ch.
The hereditary nobles Russian Empire the father of the partisans, Samuil Samuilovich Figner, was elevated to imp. Pavel with a letter dated February 18, 1801 and stored in the same family archive of his late brother.
Samuil Samuilovich, whose estate was located in the Pskov province, had three sons: the eldest, Nikolai, the second, Alexander (partisan, born in 1787, died in 1813 while crossing the Elbe), and the youngest, Vladimir.
1 Nikolai had no children.
From the son of this latter, Vladimir Vladimirovich Figner, my brother received the indicated ancient document Fugner von Rudmersbach "a.
Vladimir Vladimirovich twice in the press renounced his relationship with us: the first time in 1877, when my sister Lydia was tried in the “trial of 50” and in 1880, when my sister Evgenia was tried in the “trial of 16 Narodnaya Volya”. But when brother Nikolai was at the height of his glory, Vladimir Vladimirovich, who had fallen into great poverty, came to his brother as a relative to ask for help and gave him the ancient charter Fugner von Rudmersbach, which was in his hands, and the decree on the nobility of his grandfather (Samuil Samuilovich Figner).
Partisan, Alexander Samoilovich Figner, was married to the daughter of the Pskov governor Bibikov, Olga Mikhailovna Bibikova. This marriage took place under rather unusual circumstances. The partisan’s nephew, Vladimir Vladimirovich Figner, in his memoirs about his uncle, dated 1873 and published in the magazine “Military World” for 1911, tells the following about this marriage1.
Before the war of 1812, Alexander Samoilovich came to Pskov to visit his father (who held the position of vice-governor there) and became friends with the Bibikov family. At that time, Bibikov fell out of favor with Emperor Alexander I, was put on trial, and his estates were confiscated.
Once in society, in the presence of Alexander Samoilovich, the conversation turned to Bibikov’s four daughters, and those present expressed offensive condolences that now they would not be able to make good games. Outraged by this gossip, Alexander Samoilovich said that he was the first to be ready to get married if his proposal was accepted. The next day he actually proposed to Bibikov’s youngest daughter, Olga Mikhailovna.
Alexander Samoilovich's mother, Marya Pavlovna Figner, was against this marriage, but he got married secretly and soon left Pskov. With his wife, according to the author of the memoirs, Al. Myself. lived only a few months, and Olga Mikhailovna remained in this city until the end of her life and died in 1856 2.
1 These memories were transferred to the magazine “Military World” by my brother, who received them from the author.
2 She had no children.
Obviously, my father, Nikolai Alexandrovich Figner, who was born in 1817 and had two sisters (Ekaterina and Elizaveta) and two brothers, Alexander and Arkady, could in no way be the son of a partisan.
From the document that the late brother Peter showed me in 1915 and is currently kept in the family of brother Nikolai, I first learned that our paternal grandfather’s name was Alexander Alexandrovich, that he was a native of Livonia (as can be seen from the available service record him), and with the rank of lieutenant colonel was assigned to the Kazan nobility in 1828. According to inquiries made in the genealogical books of the Kazan province, in the alphabetical index to volume I of the 2nd part (where the families of the military nobility are entered), under No. Case a/1052 it appears: “Alexander Alexandrovich Figner. The time for determining the Kazan Deputy Assembly is 7. II. 1828 A. A. Figner, lieutenant colonel; wife - Evgenia Ilyinishna Kruzhevnikova.” And the following are listed: sons Nikolai (my father), Alexander, Arkady and daughters Ekaterina and Elizabeth.
Thus, the legend that we descend from the partisan Alexander Samoilovich Figner can be considered documented destroyed.
My brother extremely valued the ancient documents received from the partisan’s nephew: not content with his own fame as a famous opera singer, he also wanted to have famous ancestors. But, along with the family documents of Vladimir Vladimirovich, a descendant of Fugn er von Rudmersbach, my brother honestly kept all our family papers, and when I wrote my “Captured Work,” I could examine them, carry out searches in Kazan and find out if the assumptions about our origin and relationship with the partisans.
GRANDFATHER
I have not heard any stories about my father's parents: they must have died long before I was born. And on my mother’s side, my grandfather was Khristofor Petrovich Kupriyanov, and my grandmother was Nastasya Fedorovna, nee Danilova. These noble families sound like purely Russian ones. But judging by what the mother conveyed, on one of these sides, it seems, on the Danilov side (I probably don’t remember), there was an admixture of foreign blood. The mother said that her grandfather (?) served in China (I remember, as if she said, as a consul) and took his Chinese wife from there. According to her, during the Pugachev rebellion, when the peasant freemen came to destroy the estate of her great-grandfather, the serf servants took pity on her Chinese great-grandmother, who was pregnant at that time, and in order to save her, they hid her under an overturned tub, which was easily achieved due to her small stature. There, under the tub, my great-grandmother gave birth.
Be that as it may, grandfather Christopher Petrovich Kupriyanov was a Russian man, a typical landowner of his time: a broad nature, a great hospitable person and a careless spender and zhuir. Having inherited vast lands - 6269 dessiatines in the Ufa province, the grandfather sold them for 281,750 rubles in banknotes and spent all this wealth, leaving such an indefinite amount of debts that uncle Pyotr Khristoforovich Kupriyanov chose to abandon the Ufa inheritance, from which payments were still being made. Behind him and his sisters there remained only one Khristoforovka (400 dessiatines) in Tetyushsky district, Kazan province. Grandfather was a district judge and lived in own home in the town of Tetyushi. I vividly remember his tall, solid figure, always in a dressing gown, since he was already old and sick. But, despite his illness, I always see him as cheerful, humorous and widely hospitable.
I remember his house with a mezzanine1, with a large organ and a parrot in a cage in the hall; next to the house there was a garden with a painted gazebo, on one of the walls of which, under the image of a female figure at a tea table, there was an inscription: “I don’t want tea, I want champagne!” In the garden, in the greenhouse, lemons and oranges were ripening among the flowers... I remember a crowd of guests and a troupe of local singers who, sitting in pairs on the floor in the hall, pretended to be rowers and sang: “Down along Mother, along the Volga”... I remember the trip to the Volga to take the fish “tonya”, and the lights that illuminated the whole house full of guests... An eight-year-old girl and I, together with my sister Lydia, took part in the entertainment of these guests: we danced the “Russian”, which our first governess taught us: I - in a velvet kokoshnik with pearls, in a pink silk sundress, and sister Lydia is dressed as a boy.
The cheerful grandfather loved to live widely and, hosting the entire county, stood at the height of the social position of wealthy landowners 2.
1 It was still intact in 1923, when I visited Tetyushi.
2 Some of the grandfather’s traits were repeated in brother Nikolai, who, loving life and all its joys, was always cheerful, wasteful and careless.
After his death, a thick volume of the then famous Iskra moved to us in Nikiforovo and became the property of the children, whose funny caricatures and strong words greatly amused us, who, of course, did not understand the political meaning of this satirical publication at all. And then we got our grandfather’s stereoscope with an extensive collection of naked beauties...
One of my childhood memories associated with visiting my grandfather in the provincial town is the scene I saw: past the window where I stood in the living room with my mother, one morning, a large black chariot with a scaffold rode slowly, surrounded by people; a pale woman was sitting on the scaffold, and on her chest, on the board, was the inscription: “Child killer.” She was taken to the square, where the so-called “trade execution” was to take place...
Several years after this vision passed in the provincial town, in front of the windows of my grandfather’s living room, another chariot passed me, on which sat a man sentenced to death.
At the institute, one morning, when we were all still in the dormitory, someone standing at the window shouted: “Look!” We immediately came running: on the “Arsk Field”, a square that no longer exists, vast and always deserted, a large crowd was moving: soldiers, a motley crowd and a tall, bulky chariot on which the condemned man sat. Of course, we didn’t know who it was or for what purpose. And only much later did I find out that it was Lieutenant Chernyak, executed on October 15, 1865 in the case of the so-called Kazan conspiracy, details of which began to appear in the press only at the beginning of the current century 1.
1 I first read about this conspiracy in “The Voice of the Past,” 1913, book. 6 and 7.
These two chariots, two scaffolds, seen in childhood, made it so that although I did not see the execution of my comrades, Perovskaya and Zhelyabov, when I think about them, with the vividness of a hallucination, a picture of their last procession arises in my imagination. It’s as if I see the scaffold with my own eyes, I see Zhelyabov with slightly raised eyebrows and slightly white teeth behind his lips, as he did in moments of excitement: is he thinking about what will happen next with “Narodnaya Volya”? Here is Kibalchich with his peace-loving face, small beard and either a mournful or a contemptuous half-smile: he is thinking about his airplane. But Perovskaya’s round, white face is a face in which you always see something childish. She thinks: “I'm glad to die!”... and is afraid of being touched by the thought of her mother...
They drive along Nikolaevskaya Street, past the house where Sukhanov lived: we were there together so often.
And he, Sukhanov, tall, slender, in a naval officer’s overcoat, stands at the gate of the house with a nervously tense face and looks at the motorcade with a fixed gaze.
Soon he too will die, shot in Kronstadt.
FATHER
(Born in 1817, died in 1870)
Both my father and my mother were far above the average level of people of their class in energy, strength of character and mental development.
Very different in character and temperament, they possessed many qualities equally: both were truthful, straightforward and very efficient; both were distinguished by definiteness in word and action; both were persistent in the pursuit of goals.
My father, Nikolai Aleksandrovich Figner, was born in 1817, and died in 1870, when of all the children, only I, the eldest, completed my education (at the institute).
He was a tall, slender, thin man, with dark, almost black hair, a dark, uncurly beard, with eyes that he said were bottle-colored, and with regular facial features, which he passed on to almost all of us.
His spiritual appearance as a father and educator is sufficiently revealed in the description of our early childhood, in my book: “Sealed Work,” vol. I, in the chapter “Nanny.”
My further memories of him relate mainly to his social activities and relate to the era of the liberation of the peasants, when, having left the post of forester, he became a world mediator of the so-called “first conscription”.
During this period, which can be called the period of liberalism, public and personal, I remember him as he is depicted in the existing photograph: in the then popular costume of the progressive people of the 60s - an untucked red shirt, wide trousers and high boots.
At that time he was greatly fascinated by the personality of Garibaldi and often spoke about him; The exploits of Garibaldi, as the liberator of Italy, thundered then in Russia no less than throughout Europe. Perhaps this heroic image was in my father’s imagination when one day he made a statement that was completely unexpected on his part. Once during the holidays, in the village, when at dusk, the whole family had gathered, we were sitting on the terrace, the conversation turned to peasant reform.
In the midst of this conversation, the father said:
If the peasants had not been freed and they had rebelled, I would have stood at their head.
My father was hardly aware of the responsibility for these words, but these words made an unforgettable impression on me; a vague sympathy for my father’s thoughts arose in my mind, and seemed to lift him up in my eyes.
I was 13, or maybe 14 years old then.
The reputation of world mediators of the first call is well known. My father, like many others, rose to the occasion. He correctly understood the economic interests of the peasants of that era, since these interests were ensured by law, and with all his energy he defended these interests on the basis of the presentation of the 63rd year. With unbridled ardor, he persuaded the peasants not to hope for a new “will” and to take the “full” allotment, without fear of ransom. It happened that at dinner he spoke angrily about the troublemakers who supported rumors among the peasants that the will announced on February 19 was not a real will, and ahead of the peasants there was another, complete will, which would give all the land of the landowners into their hands free of charge. As one of these troublemakers, he mentioned the peasant of Spassky district, Anton Petrov, whose agitation caused the famous peasant riot in the “Abyss” (Spassky district, Kazan province), which cost many victims1.
1 About this rebellion and its suppression military force I only found out many years later.
On the same basis of agrarian relations, my father constantly fought with semi-literate “clouds”, shady personalities who, out of selfish calculations, confused the peasants and, taking advantage of their misunderstanding and illiteracy, wrote all kinds of papers and, while going about business, introduced the peasants into endless litigation and expenses .
My father only learned to control himself towards the end of his life: he was hot-tempered and domineering, and in his relations with the peasants he became extremely excited. It used to be that during the holidays, in the yard, in the corridor of the house and in my father’s office, whole crowds of peasants stood, and his voice boomed throughout the house. He could not speak and convince in cold blood, but he supported his arguments not with arguments, but with a cry that embarrassed everyone at home. But it wasn’t swearing, but at least I never heard my father utter swearing, and he shouted at the peasants from selfless motives, indignant at their lack of understanding own interests. In relation to the authorities, in particular to the governor, who at that time in Kazan was the great tyrant Skaryatin, as well as in relation to people in general, my father behaved independently. Even during his lifetime, I heard separate reviews from private individuals about him as a generous and magnanimous person.
My father, like my mother, loved to read. His favorite reading was at first “Contemporary”, and then “Notes of the Fatherland”. From newspapers, he subscribed and read from cover to cover the best organ of that time, St. Petersburg Gazette, published by F. Korsh.
In Otechestvennye Zapiski, his mother first of all read aloud to him articles by the then famous publicist Demert, who himself was a peace mediator in one of the districts of the Kazan province. and wrote an internal review in the magazine.
One day my father brought from somewhere a handwritten satirical poem entitled: “Akathist to the world mediator.” It is possible that the author was the same Demert. The poem wittily and aptly ridiculed the sycophancy and ingratiation of the mediator to his superiors, and each stanza ended with the exclamation: “Rejoice, mediator, great peacemaker!” My father had fun for a long time, quoting first one verse and then another, especially focusing on the one that spoke of the intermediary, “kissing the governor on the shoulder.” An active and ebullient nature, my father found satisfaction in applying his strength to the peasant business, and when intermediaries were abolished, he did not know what to fill his life with. He began to get involved in reading novels, and the most challenging ones at that. It was impossible to tear him away from Ponson du Terrail: in vain they called him to dinner and shouted that “everything was cold”; he did not get up from his seat, completely immersed in reading. At that time I was a 17-year-old girl, I read some articles by Pisarev and considered it unworthy of a developed person to read pulp novels. I often made fun of my father, but he, proud and hot-tempered, patiently endured my laughter on this score.
Only in Shlisselburg, using the example of some comrades who reveled in the description of the most incredible adventures in the supplements to cheap magazines, I realized that the extraordinary experiences experienced during such reading filled the emptiness of my father’s life: he was bored from inactivity, and science fiction novels helped him endure the lack of activity.
As a landowner, my father was enterprising and was constantly rushing around with some kind of undertaking: he built a grain mill and at one time introduced a furnace fired with buckwheat husks at our house; organized a stillborn bazaar in Nikiforovo, where there was no one in the area to sell or buy anything; kept the inn he built on the Kazansky tract, near Khristoforovka; together with a mullah he knew, he raised bees, designed a brick factory in Nikiforovo and conceived the idea of turning wooden utensils using the water power of a small stream in our garden; promoted fire-resistant, adobe buildings and sowing lentils among the peasants, but had no success in either one.
1 Currently, as I could personally see, sowing lentils in those places is quite common. And now there are no fireproof buildings.
My father’s economic entrepreneurship was reflected in both of my brothers: brother Kolya was interested, among other things, in transforming a water mill on his Vasilievka estate and ordered a turbine to be installed in it, for which there was not enough water in the river, and for the construction of a house on Chernomorskoe he bought a collapsible one in Finland house, which upon arrival at the site remained undelivered. And brother Peter, a mining engineer, thought of getting rich by organizing something like a family partnership on shares to mine alluvial gold in some river on Urad. A dredge was purchased, joyful telegrams were received about the amount of gold being washed; Then there was silence, and the whole matter was forgotten. His agricultural endeavors are described in the chapter “Contradictions of Life” in my book “After Shlisselburg.”
In the district, my father was considered quite rich at that time. In addition to the 230 tithes that he had in Nikiforovo, he bought the land of one neighboring landowner, who liquidated his affairs during the liberation of the peasants; Moreover, the price was 10-12 rubles. for a tithe. Later, the land of one Nikiforov landowner was purchased, so that after the death of her mother there were already 480 acres of land.
Father's family estate in Nizhny Novgorod province It was insignificant in size, and during his lifetime my father sold the land there at a cheap price to local peasants who were in great need of it.
My father loved to play cards and sometimes lost hundreds of rubles when he visited a party where a card game was being played. We didn’t have any receptions at home; no guests came. The general structure of life and the situation in the village were typical for the provincial landowner environment to which my parents belonged. By the time I left the institute, the rigor to which my father subjected us in childhood had disappeared, and we lived as nobles generally lived on their estates: it was contentment, but not luxury
MOTHER (Born 1832, died 1903)
Dwelling lovingly on the image of my mother, I feel like a schoolboy going to an exam and doubting his success. It seems so difficult to find those colors and tones in which I would like to portray her personality.
Mother was born and raised during the reign of Nicholas I, in the era of unshakable serfdom. But if, due to the complete absence of women's gymnasiums and the small number of institutes at that time, the mother received only the tiniest education at home, then the spirit of serfdom, as was the case with others the best people that era, by some miracle, cast not the slightest shadow over it. Mother was taught at home to play the piano a little, sing a little and speak a little French. That's all she got from outside and for free. She acquired the rest to enrich her mind through her own efforts, like all gifted individuals, learning and improving until the end of her life. In the 60s, the time of a turning point in Russian life, the peak of her mental powers apparently declines, and her moral beauty is revealed in the 70s and 80s of the last century, when she becomes the arbiter of the destinies of her children, their friend and support.
Religion played a huge role in her mother’s life and was instilled in her from an early age. According to her stories, her grandmother became blind early, and her mother, while still a child; I had to constantly read the Chetya-Minea to her. This reading sank deeply into the soul of the little reader: her mother grew up as an ardent believer, and, perhaps, the example of Christians of the first times in the stories of Chetya-Minea, read in childhood, more than once inspired and strengthened her in those years when the political career of her three daughters caused her pain and suffering.
And although not such an important feature, I now want to note that, along with a religious feeling, my great-grandmother instilled in my mother an active love for flowers and trees - a love that was expressed in the fact that throughout her life, no matter where her mother lived, she stopped decorating the earth with them.
Mom got married almost as a child. According to the custom of that time, there was no long acquaintance between her and the groom: after the second visit, her parents asked if she liked her new acquaintance, and after the third she became a bride.
Judging by the spiritual contrasts that the spouses presented, their family life should have turned out badly. As much as the father was impetuous, demanding and despotic, the mother had an even, thoughtfully gentle character. Both were people of strong will, but he imperiously broke someone else’s “I”, and she belonged to that aristocracy of the spirit, the main feature of which is heartfelt respect for someone else’s self-valued personality. It seemed that conflicts were inevitable. Meanwhile, there were never any quarrels or even visible disagreements between father and mother, and We had the happiness of spending our childhood years in an atmosphere of complete purity, without any domestic scenes, squabbles or troubles. Only the mother’s extraordinary tact and amazing self-control performed this miracle every day.
Father used to get dusty... angry; shouts, neither give nor take, like a true serf-owner...
And the mother is silent: she lowered her eyes and didn’t say a word... Oh, this silence! Those downcast sweet eyes! They are eloquent!.. But my father’s mind is organized: he will then understand: he himself is the best judge of his mistakes and aberrations of feeling.
And isn’t it strange that this father sometimes wild man irritated with the children and the servants, he never, absolutely never reproached his mother, never said a stern word to her. Mother, in turn, never undermined my father’s authority in any way and did not make us judges between ourselves and him...
Was the mother happy in her married life? The secret of their relationship remained hidden to us. Mother never opened up to anyone in this regard, no matter how difficult, perhaps, other outbursts of our stern parent were. Only in the evenings, her touching figure bending in front of the icon case with lips passionately whispering something and eyes prayerfully directed to the face of the saints, seemed to speak of hidden spiritual experiences and begged for the granting of strength for daily feats.
In early childhood, the mother did not play a big role in our lives: the father occupied the main place, the nanny occupied. In the first 12 years of marriage, the mother suffered eight pregnancies and births (two boys died in infancy). Everyone knows what a huge investment such motherhood requires on the part of the body. Where could we, the elders, give ourselves up when there is almost always a sucker on our chest!
Rarely, rarely does a mother tell a story at dusk. And she knew few of them; Even more rarely, as far as I remember, she read aloud to us some story from almost the only children's magazine published in the early 60s. I think it was Children's Reading. And when governesses appeared in the house, neither mother nor father interfered in the matter of our teaching: they were never present at a single lesson, never entered the classroom and did not ask us about our classes.
Over the years, the father grew old, the mother, who was 15 years younger, matured; As the children grew up, the time came to send us, one by one, to educational institutions. From that moment on, with the gradual course of events, the father faded into the background, the nanny moved away: the mother came forward, her importance grew, her influence grew.
It started with the fact that when my sister and I came home from college for vacation, my mother began giving us books to read. True, it was only fiction from beginning to end: Russian classics - Gogol and Pushkin, Goncharov and Turgenev; and then Grigorovich, Reshetnikov, Pomyalovsky; novels by Sheller-Mikhailov; stories in leading Russian magazines, and from foreign literature - Dickens, Thackeray, Spielhagen.
The choice was careful and good. When one day, pointing to some story, my mother said: “Don’t read it—the story is empty!..”, I nevertheless became curious and, taking out a book from my mother’s library, plunged into reading in her absence. The story turned out to be vulgar: some love affairs of a young man who climbed through the window of a married woman. I put the book back in its place, ashamed, and from then on I never doubted my mother’s comments.
Novels, novels... all novels, novellas and short stories! “Of course, this reading was one-sided, but my mother did not notice this, and I realized the weak side of this choice of books only much later. The scientific field was completely absent from this program; literary criticism was not included in it either. The mind, in the narrow sense of the word, was not received the necessary food; the emotional side developed exclusively, and the aesthetic perception of works of art was not accompanied by a critical analysis of them.
Such a selection of books undoubtedly had to leave a certain mark on the personality, and this is all the more so since, in the conditions of upbringing in a closed educational institution, book influences until the age of 17 did not meet any counterbalance from life.
Before college, in the village, in a close family circle, my sister and I lived completely outside the flow of even the meager impressions of the surrounding provincial life...
And the institute, like a monastery, spent six children. Of these, the last two, the most important for development, without even going on a 6-week vacation!
Thus, in the early period of life, under all conditions, due to the distance from life and people, we studied them from books, from literature. What was imprinted in the mind was not reality as it is, with its beauty and ugliness, with its poetry and prose, but the quint-essence of life, as it is reflected in the works of master artists, great and small. But the artist in his creations transforms reality, puts it through an artistic prism, throwing aside a great variety of details, colors and shades. This gives the images integrity, greater harmony, completeness and greater aesthetic beauty than they actually have.
If at school they consider it necessary to have visual learning rather than a book-based acquaintance with the subject, then is it necessary to talk about the harmful and disadvantageous aspects of getting to know life and people solely by describing them in fine literature, how was it in this case?
Issues of education were not so advanced and developed at that time as they are now; there was no literature on pedagogy; children were raised gropingly, without going into any subtleties, and the mother, like most parents of that time, had no idea about the need for harmony in the development of the emerging personality.
Nevertheless, speaking about myself, my mother did me a great service: the literature she chose expanded my horizons; depiction of material and moral suffering in human society fostered empathy, and the ideal of an honest person and honest behavior in life was created in my soul, and my initial acquaintance with the masters of words probably influenced the fact that even at school I wrote well essays on the given topics.
Every summer, after spending six weeks at home, I returned to the institute enriched and, thanks to good reading, from the very moment I entered the institute, I was superior to girls in less favorable conditions. And in the last two years, when I, unlike other best students, was not allowed into the vacate1, I immediately noticed that those released were catching up with me and that my development was delayed.
1 Looking back and comparing myself with those who, despite the same 16 years, were released for vacate, I can only explain this by the fact that, due to my temperament and liveliness of character, I had fewer guarantees against being carried away by the “ideas” of our time.
In 1870, the father died, and the mother remained independent with five younger children, in whom individuality and their own aspirations were already beginning to emerge.
What would the relationship be like between Father and all of us as we began to spread our wings? Perhaps conflicts would have arisen, discord would have appeared... At the very least, my father harmed me by not letting me go abroad, to the university, as I wanted, which I asked for almost immediately upon leaving the institute. Instead, in the first winter after graduating from the institute, I was taken to Kazan to shine at balls in clouds of white gas, wearing dark brown locks. And when, having sipped on secular pleasures and even somewhat foggy by them, I still asked my father to let me go free, to my will, he refused.
But my mother trusted us, believed in us. And as soon as Lydia, who had graduated from college and was carried away by my example, expressed a desire to go to Zurich with me (then already married), her mother gave her consent and provided her with material resources.
Brother Kolya, an extremely lively, playful boy, could not submit to the educational regime of the classical gymnasium. Latin and Greek exercises did not suit his mind: he dreamed of the sea, of dangerous voyages, of the exploits and glory of a sailor... He asked his mother to take him from the Kazan gymnasium and send him to the naval school in St. Petersburg. To do this, I first had to go through a preparatory, rather expensive, school in the capital. A year later, Kolya, not without some patronage from my husband’s uncle, Alexei Alekseevich Peschurov, who was at one time comrade. Minister of the Navy, entered the desired educational institution. He finished it during the Turkish War of 1877-78. participated in the voyage of the Voluntary Fleet in the Black Sea.
Then his quest appeared: dreams of an artistic career as a singer. Natural talent, recognized even at the naval school, and a passionate desire attracted success. And the mother immediately extended a helping hand to the new beginning. Thanks to her financial support, my brother was able to go to Italy to study singing. He emerged as a brilliant tenor and made a dizzying career, giving thousands, tens of thousands of people the highest aesthetic enjoyment, as a singer and at the same time an artist-actor.
After a two-year stay abroad, Sister Lydia left the medical faculty and, returning to Russia, became a factory worker in Moscow.
A year and a half before finishing the course and receiving a doctoral diploma, she left the university to serve in the zemstvo as a paramedic and in the village.
Of two roads: opera singer with a beautiful mezzo-soprano, or the village worker-sister Evgenia, perhaps deceiving her mother’s ambitious expectations, chose the latter.
Mother never opposed our aspirations if she saw that they were thoughtful and serious. She never expressed disappointment or made reproaches. She respected our individuality, valued our independence, our freedom of self-determination...
Several years later, the mother's heart was greatly tested. The father, perhaps, would have shown himself to be the old man Raevsky, but the mother’s soul was the soul of Princess Bolkonskaya, glorified by Nekrasov.
After a short experience of socialist propaganda among workers, sister Lydia was arrested and, according to the “trial of 50” (in 1877), sentenced by the Special Presence of the Senate to 5 years of hard labor. According to the cassation appeal, hard labor was replaced by deprivation of special rights and benefits and exile to live in Siberia.
My sister stayed in Siberia for 19 years; there she married a former political convict of the 60s, Sergei Grigoryevich Stakhevich1.
1 He was in hard labor at the same time as N.G. Chernyshevsky.
Sister Evgenia’s social activities did not last long: in the case of the explosion on February 5, 1880 in the Winter Palace, the St. Petersburg Military District Court sentenced her to deprivation of all rights to her estate and exile to a settlement.
The sister remained in Siberia for 16 years and there she married a former political convict, Mikhail Petrovich Sazhin, convicted in the “case of 193” (in 1878).
At the beginning of 1883, I was also arrested. The military district court sentenced me to death (1884, “trial of 14”), Emperor Alexander III replaced it with hard labor without term. I was imprisoned in the Shlisselburg fortress, where I stayed for 20 years.
Mother did not share our passion for socialism and was not a supporter of our political beliefs. But she understood them; she always kept up with the times. Her own creed was a belief in peaceful cultural progress, in evolution rather than revolution. But the breadth of her views was such that she never, in any form, encroached on our freedom of opinion or freedom of action2.
2 In relation to our family, everyone cannot help but be struck by the difference in the life paths and destinies of us, four sisters, on the one hand, and two brothers, on the other. And justice requires saying that if there was no mother’s influence in determining the life line of brother Nikolai, then it affected the fate of brother Peter. When, in the case of A. Solovyov, in the spring of 1879, he was arrested and released 3 months later, his mother insisted that he continue and complete his education at the Mining Institute, and “then” determine his purpose in life. Before that, he joined our circle of landowners (A. Solovyov, Yu. Bogdanovich, etc.), but the connection with us was broken after the Solovyov case: Evgeniya and I became illegal, and we could not visit our relatives. In 1883, Peter graduated as a mining engineer and received a position in the Urals. Since then, being exclusively in a bourgeois environment, he little by little learned in relation to the workers the psychology of his patrons and commanding colleagues, so that, upon leaving Shlisselburg, I found in him loving brother, but such a political opponent that she often felt on the cutting edge
With unshaken, trusting love and charming firmness, she appeared to each of us in difficult moments and brought affection and support. She knew that the situation required unwavering firmness from us, and not a single tear made either of us falter.
Later, thinking about this, it occurred to me: during our political catastrophes, the mother’s behavior was not a consequence of the psychological impossibility of free man imagine what it is like to live in a distant and cold place in the Asian outback or dry, stone vegetation in the silence of a solitary cell in a fortress?
However, this was not the case. At the end of my trial, my mother unexpectedly said during a meeting:
Give me your word that you will fulfill my request.
“I’ll never give it to you without knowing what’s going on,” I answered. “Are you thinking of making a commitment that I won’t commit suicide?”
No!” said the mother. “I know what things can be like when death is the best outcome.”
If we take into account all the conditions in which the conversation took place, then in order for the mother to say such words to her daughter, of course, it was necessary to deeply understand what kind of life might lie ahead of me.
In 1884, the mother reeled; tears fell from her eyes: her two daughters were in Siberia, in exile; I am awaiting trial in the Peter and Paul Fortress; brother Kolya, who was just beginning his artistic career, in Buenos Aires; brother Petya is a mining engineer in the Urals, and the youngest of us, sickly Olga, is at sea swimming in Arensburg... The children are scattered in three parts of the world, and the mother is in the village (Nikiforovo) - and completely alone. She is always surrounded, always giving herself to others, and now she is lonely, as if no one needs her, in an empty “old” house, near a family hearth abandoned by everyone.
But she rose again... And then... then... Wasn’t my mother a faithful friend and helper to my sisters in Siberia, where she went after losing me?
After the 13-year ban was lifted and my mother had the opportunity to write to me in the fortress, didn’t she in her letters give me, along with the bitterness of awakened feelings, a life-giving ray of unchanging love?..
And when her life was about to fade away in separation, didn’t she, in response to my request to forgive me voluntary and involuntary sins against her, send words full of expressive power and rare beauty: “A mother’s heart does not remember grief”?
After all that has been said, is it worth talking about the ordinary excellent qualities of my mother?
What my friend in London called not Russian qualities was inherited from her and not by me alone, but to one degree or another by all members of our family. The ability for self-discipline, endurance in work, perseverance in achievements were inherited by us from both parents. But a long-term example and strengthening of these qualities was given by the mother. She could not stand idle talk and inactivity and vigorously fought against them in the family. Her mind or hands were always busy. She then decides to learn to sew dresses and goes to a cutting and sewing school; then he wants to make hats and goes to study at a hat shop. Needing French, he starts taking lessons from a French woman...
My mother always devoted a lot of time to reading: she was interested in everything and until the end of her life she followed current literature more closely than, according to the sisters, they themselves. In energy and mobility, according to their own testimony, she surpassed them until she fell ill with a fatal illness.
The mother could not be called beautiful, but she had a good face, and her whole appearance was pleasant and attractive. Of average height, with black hair and brown eyes, she had irregular features on which a blush never appeared. Her face was matte; her slightly crimped hair hanging down at the temples perfectly set off her appearance, and the kind expression in her eyes, friendly smile and soft timbre of her voice immediately made her friends with everyone who approached her. Needless to say, to us children, her face seemed more beautiful than the faces of all mothers in the world.
Her gentle moral authority was, until the end of her days, a strong connection between all the heterogeneous elements of such a complex family as ours: until the end, everyone needed her, both the one who was at the height of fame, and the one who languished in the insecurity of Shlisselburg . For each of us, she was joy and consolation and left memories of herself as an ideal person.
STUDENT YEARS
In 1869 I left the Kazan Rodionov Institute. Family influences mother and uncle P. Kh. Kupriyanov and the serious, simple regime introduced at the institute by the smart and kind boss, Susanna Aleksandrovna Mertvago, gave me such a fold that upon leaving the institute I had both the need and the habit of studying. The suggestion of those around me, the mood that gripped me in the village where we lived, the contrast between the relative wealth of the home environment, on the one hand, and the peasant poor, on the other, made me susceptible to what, after graduation, I encountered in books and on the pages of the best big magazines .
Since early childhood, I have always loved to read and loved to study! No one, either at home or at school, ever pushed me to study, and with very good abilities and obvious general encouragement, I walked ahead both in the family and in the class, and ended up being the first student, with a golden code. In the literature of that time, in the 60-70s, I found articles about higher education for women and the first news that there are Russian women who study at universities in Switzerland.
This news fell on prepared ground and a suitable mood, described in detail in the corresponding chapter of the first part of my “Sealed Work.”
By a rare coincidence, my classmate at the institute, M. Delyaru, preserved a letter written by me on April 19, 1871, formulating in the naive expressions of an undeveloped syllable the aspirations of my 19th spring. It is interesting to look at this document, and I will quote it, omitting the first lines that are not relevant to the matter.
“Everything that you say about the opportunity to benefit the circle in which you live is fair, but it’s good for you to talk in this way when your mental education proceeds by itself, without obstacles, when it’s enough to wave your little finger for teachers, and books, and all kinds of benefits 1. In my opinion, in order to be more useful, you need to know more, and where will you learn what you would like: isn’t it at home? small means, perhaps in a provincial town, where these funds from the conditions will be reduced by almost half? I find only the university worthy for a woman to sacrifice everything for it; only it is worth entering into it, despite the scarcity of funds or anything else. But in Russia this outcome is impossible for women, because the doors of universities are closed to women, like the doors of altars. Therefore, my dear Marie, I decided to go to Switzerland, to Zurich. Don't smile, don't be surprised and don't doubt that I will achieve my goal.
“After all, to live abroad, you need money, kind money and useful money for everything. And we will achieve this, albeit slowly2. We want to buy on credit a small estate with government debt, which would give 1 thousand rubles a year3. In three years we will certainly pay off the debt and fly out of Ruseland to return in five years, during which we will live on the income from the estate. We will return to our estate and live a glorious life; Alexey will leave government service4 and become a zemstvo doctor; I will run a hospital, open a school or a craft establishment 5.
1 Delyaru was very rich.
2 In fact, this came out exactly a year after the letter.
3 According to information, this was enough for two people with fees for lectures, for me and my husband. Needless to say, no estate was purchased.
4 Alexey Viktorovich Filippov was serving as a forensic investigator when we got married in the fall of 1870.
5I meant a vocational school for peasants.
Wonderful! Mashenka, will all this really come true? Then I would consider myself the happiest in the world, because I would feel that I am not living in vain and not just because I was born. If only external circumstances would help, and I will never stop for anything(emphasized by me now), because this whole plan is not an invention of idle fantasy, but my flesh and blood, and the incentives for activity will be three needs or three goals of my existence: economic independence, education of the mind and benefit, i.e. my usefulness to others (emphasized by me now). However, goodbye, I kiss you warmly. Write what you think about my plan, criticize it, find weaknesses, give advice to do better. Goodbye, darling.
Your Verochka."
“You have fulfilled much more than you promised,” cousin N. Kupriyanova wrote to me, sending me a copy of this simple-minded letter written in 1871.
After these introductory lines, the reader will be able to understand the rest of the text. I will add that what is stated below is a version of chapters I of part of my “Sealed Work”, which was not used when printing it, because it was left abroad in 1915 and arrived in Russia only in 1920, when the book had already been published with a text written anew and less detailed.
ZURICH
It was drizzling with boring, continuous rain. From the windows of a small hotel room on Limmatquai in Zurich, only the tiled roofs of houses pressed closely together were visible. It was grey, uncomfortable and somehow dreary on this stormy day - the first in a foreign country, in an unfamiliar city.
Zurich! The long-desired Zurich, to which for two years all thoughts and all desires were directed. On a bright April day in 1872, full of sunshine and the aromas of spring, my sister and I were leaving dear Nikiforov on a lively troika with bells to the district town, on a ship, then by rail abroad, to Switzerland, to enter the university. This wonderful day was so bright, good and invigorating. And now Zurich with the narrow streets of the old city, with a boring, rainy, ugly lake and an ugly view from the window on the tiles...
But the next day it cleared up, and we hastily went to apply for admission to the university. We walk uphill from the embankment; the streets are getting wider; here and there gardens appear, and finally we are in front of a large polytechnic building connected to the university. With a quiet feeling of hidden reverence, I climb the wide steps: I’m about to enter the temple of science and join the ranks of its servants.
Simply, without any formalities, the rector immediately accepts us as students and extends his hand, making a promise with this handshake to comply with the rules of university discipline.
How many worries I had experienced before!.. I expected to go to Zurich only in the fall. But Russian newspapers reported in the spring that the University of Zurich, the only one abroad at that time open to women, was introducing new onerous admission rules. Alarmed, we made a request to the rector and, having received a reassuring answer about admission without exams, we hastened to leave our province. We were late for the start of the spring semester, but were still accepted.
The cherished goal has been achieved, and we almost run down the stairs. Now the training will begin. Nothing but study, study and study. “I won’t go to the theater or for walks,” I assured my uncle at home, who sympathized with my desire to go to university to become a doctor, a doctor exclusively for the poor, for the peasants. “And I won’t catch fish,” I asserted when he pointed out to me, a great lover of this fishing, that Lake Zurich, of course, is very fishy, would tempt me. "Oh no! there will be no fishing rod, no boating!.. Nothing but lectures and textbooks!”
I treated my future profession with great passion, one might say, with fanaticism. For two years I not only thought about medicine, but also prepared for university, studying mathematics, physics, German and Latin. I also made financial preparations: it was necessary to raise 3-4 thousand to ensure several years of modest student life abroad for the two of us. For this purpose, I climbed into the wilderness of the village, where life on my mother’s estate cost pennies. The husband's entire salary was put aside for the proposed trip; all the things recently given to me as a dowry were sold for the same purpose. And so, freed from all household belongings, all necessary and unnecessary things, light, young and cheerful, we could finally cling to the source of knowledge.
At that time my mental horizon was extremely narrow. I was 19 years old, and only two years ago my institute, purely monastic upbringing ended. I read few books or even magazine articles of a serious nature and, living in the village, I had absolutely no company. Apart from my uncle, in this wilderness I had no one who would open up the world of broad ideas. To him, to this uncle, I owed some of the foundations of society, as described in the chapter about my mood after college 1. And that was all.
1 See “Sealed Work.”
But if my uncle, who was himself a major public figure, instilled in me some principles that I retained forever, then, not being a natural scientist, he could not fill the gap, which I could not help but regret later. It was complete ignorance on my part that medicine is an applied science and that natural science is its basis. Not a single person or book has explained this to me. Moreover, I entered the medical faculty with a completely frivolous attitude towards the natural sciences. True, the very first lectures that I signed up for were lectures on natural science: mineralogy and zoology. But I listened to them specifically in order to accustom my ear to German speech. Then I signed up for botany and physics, but again only for formality, since this was required by the course program. Only chemistry interested me thanks to what I had wonderful book Mendeleev: “Fundamentals of Chemistry”. The concept of evolution, in the sense of a law that embraces all things, was completely alien to me, although even before entering the university I had read Darwin’s On the Origin of Species. And only much later, in Shlisselburg, I understood the unity of the universe and the connection of man with all of nature; not only understood, but also felt. Medicine, especially what is needed to understand and study the diseases of the body and heal it, was what occupied my mind and seemed to me to be a science to which I intended to devote my time, memory and imagination. Although I knew the phrase that science is developing, moving forward, this was not realized by me, and in essence, quite childishly, scientific knowledge seemed to me to be in a static state rather than in a continuous, fluid process of approaching the truth. And, I admit, again, only in Shlisselburg, following the small scientific journal “Naturwissenschaftliche Wochenschrift”, did I understand what the forward movement of science is; I realized that hundreds and thousands of people tirelessly and continuously, like small knockers, knock on the doors of nature, gradually revealing its secrets; that these hundreds of scientists and researchers form an informal partnership, collective work which eternally changes and transforms the content of science. For me, a provincial schoolgirl, science was made up of a textbook. And it seems to me that the majority of our students in Zurich approached the matter in the same way. On this side, we women were not prepared for university either by our previous school or by influences outside it. But there was a lot of thirst to exhaust their narrow program to the bottom. Our coming abroad, our desire to go to university, was not fashion or frivolous vanity. We were still pioneers in achieving higher education for women, and traveling abroad was not easy for everyone: the prejudices of the surrounding provincial environment, resistance to innovation on the part of parents, their fears of sending their daughters to an unknown distance, financial difficulties - everything had to be overcome with serious firmness, persistent by force of will. And from this side, the Zurich youth of 1872 were of high standard.
UNIVERSITY
The large auditorium without an amphitheater is already crowded with young people when I come to the polytechnic for the first time for a mineralogy lecture. Gray suits, broad shoulders, ruddy cheeks, rather rude faces - these are Swiss students. And among them are the female heads of Russian students. What a multitude of lovely, spiritual faces! It’s truly amazing how many pretty people have gathered here... The professor is short, homely and middle-aged, muttering in an unsympathetic voice some incomprehensible, multi-story crystallographic definitions and names: he twirls cardboard and wooden models in his hands... You hear: octahedron, tetrahedron. .. monoclinohedral, hexagonal system... Unaccustomed to the German patter, you can’t keep up... The first lectures, in which there was an introduction, are skipped, you are caught up in the continuation, without a beginning. It’s clear that there is only confusion in my head. It's boring and completely useless. I want to be a doctor, I want to treat patients! What does this have to do with the minutiae of crystallography? You don’t understand and sit for an hour, not getting anything out of it, without interest, and then you don’t look at the textbook at all, since there won’t be an exam in mineralogy: you just need a record that you’ve listened to lectures on this subject.
In the evening there will be a lecture on zoology. Professor Frey, a famous histologist, is a tall old man with a large gray mustache, speaks standing and holds himself very straight. Like a magician, he stands at a table richly decorated: graceful plexuses of branched corals, white and red, adorn it; in the tall jars appear the delicate outlines of jellyfish and the bizarre figures of multi-colored sea cucumbers, starfish, urchins, polyps - all wonders depths of the sea. The serious, dry figure of the professor and all these preparations are flooded with dazzling evening lighting, and the audience is hot from the multitude of listeners. The spectacle is beautiful, and Frey reads well; but only the eye is amused, the aesthetic sense is satisfied, but there is no curiosity, no desire to penetrate into the significance, meaning and connection of these lower organisms with each other and with what is higher than them. There is no basis, that guiding thread, which was probably given in the first lectures, at the opening of the semester, and now, in the middle, you listen carefully, but everything passes quickly in your head, leaving no trace in your memory, and is not then strengthened by the textbook. Why zoology in medicine?
And there will be no exam on it...
Another thing is human anatomy, physiology, tissue science. Here you study the future object of medical activity. You need to know this; This is interesting, you can’t live without it. We must devote ourselves undividedly to the study of this.
This was my attitude towards classes when entering the university.
WOMEN'S FEREIN
At one of the lectures on mineralogy, next to me was a young girl with a whole head of black cropped curls. The narrowly cut black eyes looked like coals, and round face with an ugly brick blush, it was original in its either perky or mocking expression. Actually, the nose was mocking, and the especially trimmed mouth somehow harmonized with it.
“Are you at the Faculty of Medicine?” I asked.
No. I enrolled in the polytechnic school, as an agronomist.
This is amazing! - I thought. What kind of agronomy? Why does my neighbor need it? I thought that people go abroad only to study medicine and that every student has and can have only one goal, to set herself only with the thought of serving society, i.e. poor. I didn’t have any other term besides the term “poor”: I understood public benefit exclusively in the sense of serving the masses, meaning peasants by this, and peasants were united under the concept of the poor. Medicine seemed to me the best way to serve them.
“Why do you need agronomy?” I asked my neighbor.
What benefit can it bring?
“My relatives are landowners in the Tambov province,” she answered. “I will live in the village and apply the acquired knowledge to cultivating the land.”
Until then, I saw in the estates only completely uneducated clerks and so-called “elders” from the peasants - the same clerks, only of a lower grade and cheaper, and from the farming systems I knew only the one that my fathers and grandfathers followed and from time immemorial adhered to as peasants, and so are the landowners. Therefore, it cannot be said that the answer clarified anything about Bardina’s intentions.
It was she, Sofya Illarionovna Bardina, who later became famous for her speech at the “50” political trial. It did not take much time then to notice that she was becoming the center of a circle of female youth, the intellectual head of which she appeared at the trial.
The real learning began only with the autumn semester, for which we had already managed to prepare, having at the same time taken a closer look at the surrounding situation.
During the summer holidays I had the opportunity to see the beauty of Switzerland for the first time. I visited Rigi-Kulm, Pila-tus. Lake Viervalstedt made an indelible impression on me. Coming out onto a stone platform on the shore of the lake in Lucerne, seeing for the first time the semi-ring of high mountains framing its blue, I came into a frantic, purely childish delight. The picture was unusual for me, having never been anywhere except my native county: a wonderful profile of mountains smoking in the clouds, an unprecedented combination of various shades of blue water, green vegetation and blue skies... I rushed to hug and kiss my mother and sister, who were mine companions...
Enriched by everything I had seen, returning to Zurich, I passionately devoted myself to my labor studies. But life was coming at me from all sides. It began with the fact that the student mass of disconnected atoms began to form into circles and into a student-wide conglomerate.
One day Bardina told me at a lecture:
A meeting of Russian students is being convened today.
For what? - I ask with some fear that there will be a distraction from classes.
A proposal was made to form a circle exclusively of women. This female verein will have the goal of learning to speak logically. “In the presence of men,” she continued, noticing my perplexed look, “women are usually silent at all meetings: they are embarrassed and therefore do not speak. Meanwhile, with exercise you can learn to consistently develop your thoughts and not be afraid to speak in public. A purely female verein will serve as a school for us.
Well, that's good! Where will the meeting be?
IN Palmenhof on Oberstrasse, at 8 pm. Come!
Even before this, having learned that there was a Russian library in Zurich, my sister and I hastened to subscribe to it. The librarian was a pretty, flirty, young student woman who greeted us very warmly. She was the initiator of the famous, albeit short-lived, female verein in the annals of Zurich.
After a meager student dinner, both sister Lydia set off for Palmengof at the appointed hour. There in the hall there was a long dining table and a row of chairs along it. Modestly dressed young women stood and sat, scattered in groups of two or three here and there.
There was a buzz of conversation; Here and there they were arguing animatedly.
Gentlemen! Please take your seats!” declared a tall blonde with cropped hair. It was the doctor's wife Emma. Following this, an energetic bell rang. The seats were taken and the meeting opened. The same Emma was chosen to chair, and she gave the floor to the librarian, who took the initiative to gather us.
Having explained the goal of the future verein - to learn to speak logically - she presented the reading of abstracts and debates about them as a means to achieve the desired goal.
A discussion began: is such a verein needed at all and who should it consist of? The goal of the ferein did not meet with a negative attitude from anyone. But heated arguments arose over the composition of the Verein, consisting exclusively of women. This arrangement caused ridicule among many: they found the fear of the presence of men ridiculous and considered it more natural and appropriate, without fear of male competition, to form a self-education circle together with men. But these voices were drowned out by the decision of the majority to organize only one student at first.
We did not develop any rules for the verein, open to all female students, but, having resolved the general issue, we immediately got down to business, inviting those who wished to choose topics for the next meetings.
The first abstract, as it should have been, was prepared by the librarian, who took the initiative to gather us. And, oddly enough, its topic quite unexpectedly turned out to be the question of suicide, from which all of us could not have been further away at that time. 1. The report pursued the idea that all suicide, without exception, is caused by a mental disorder, and proclaimed, that there are no completely normal suicides!
1 Subsequently, of those present, the following committed suicide: Kaminskaya, Bardina, Zavadskaya, Khorshevskaya and Grebnitskaya, the sister of the writers Pisarev.
Although none of us was familiar with the issue or had the slightest idea about psychiatry, the challenge that seemed to us common sense, was boldly accepted, heated debates flared up: the hand of the chairwoman, shaking the bell, worked quite a bit. The meeting was undisciplined; Instead of proper discussion, everyone spoke at once. In the end, it was clearly determined that the majority was against the one-sided view of the referent, and, having settled enough on the question: what is normal person? Do normal people even exist? or, not only suicides, but also her, in one direction or another, a little crazy, we went home, for a long time filling the sleeping streets of Zurich with ringing voices; everything was still pouring out: normal... abnormal... psychosis... where is the border? And exclamations that there is no such border!..
The second essay was read by V.I. Aleksandrova, a younger, fair-haired student, a friend of my sister Lydia; The theme was the rebellion of Stenka Razin. The essay itself, compiled according to Kostomarov, was weak, but full of idealization of Razin’s personality as a powerful leader and destroyer-hero in the Bakunin spirit.
This time, the question of science and civilization arose around Razin’s personality. Are they useful or not for humanity? Is science necessary for people's happiness? Does civilization bring any benefit to the people or only harm, creating, on the one hand, the enslavement of the masses, and on the other, the luxury and refined culture of the elite? There were: Rousseau with his famous work, crowned by the Academy of Sciences, and Bakunin, this incomparable apostle of destruction. The most vocal ones stood precisely on the point of view of these deniers of civilization and culture. Others, excited by the furious attacks on all the gains of mankind, gave an energetic rebuff, as if, in fact, from our debates civilization would perish and the glorified barbarism would set in. With true frenzy, as an ardent adherent of the science that I was trying to join, I shouted about its benefits and that in order to establish justice on earth it is necessary not to destroy civilization, but to spread it to all the disadvantaged. The fiery half-Russian, half-Italian woman was destroying civilization, in accordance with her southern temperament... The meeting turned into a disorderly crowd, heated and intolerant; it was no longer possible to make out anything in the screams. The Italian's nose began to bleed, and the chairwoman, imitating Napoleonic's address to the army in Egypt: “From the heights of these pyramids, 40 centuries are looking at you,” ringing the bell furiously, said reproachfully, “Mesdames—all of Europe is looking at you!! ..” This mention of Europe, which supposedly closely monitors us, Russian students in Switzerland, came out so comically that unanimous laughter somehow immediately extinguished all the ardor of the disputing parties. The meeting closed, but the excitement did not subside, and in the fresh air, on the street, everyone was still bowing: civilization, science, and the verbs were conjugated: destroy, exterminate; save and preserve.
As funny as it may seem, the described meeting with an essay on Razin was the last: the existence of our “female” verein ended, as if we had put all our heat and desire to learn to speak logically into the debate about civilization. Perhaps they saw that the matter was hopeless... In any case, the opposition to the exclusion of men after this disorderly and too heated debate of words increased unusually.
Another meeting took place, at which the question of admitting the stronger sex was again raised, and the defenders of the original decision somehow softened and weakened.
They argued, talked, and then parted without any resolution. Ferein, apparently, was falling apart and, in contrast to the previous verbosity, died silently, without snatching a sigh of regret from anyone, except perhaps the initiator.
The female verein died and was not resurrected; but his brief existence was not useless. It brought young women closer together, giving them a chance to get to know each other and get to know each other. The debate revealed different currents and temperaments, and thanks to this, it was easier for similar elements to group together. Indeed, several circles soon formed in the Russian colony.
ZURICH CIRCLES AND LIBRARY
After Suslova and Bakova graduated from medical school at the University of Zurich in 1868, other Russian women followed in their footsteps. But the number of female students did not exceed 15-20 until 1872, when not only from Kazan, like my sister and I, but from different parts of Russia, many women hurried to Zurich. Thus, in the spring semester of this year, there were 103-105 immatriculated female students at the university and polytechnic. But this was only part of the colony of students in Zurich, and all those speaking Slavic dialects numbered at least 300 people.
The Poles were the most numerous, but among them there was only one female student; Next came we Russians, and among us the majority were women. A number of Serbs and Bulgarians of both sexes also attended lectures at the university, and finally there was a fairly prominent group of men and women from the Caucasus in Zurich.
All these nationalities were not united into one common, even loose organization, but, united each individually, lived their own special inner life. We were separated from the Serbs and Bulgarians by language, and the Poles last days Tsarism kept itself apart from the Russians abroad. The Caucasians were the closest to us, but they also had their own group, their own common and public interests about which the Russian majority knew nothing.
The center of attraction for Russian students was the Russian library and the circle of young emigrants who organized it a year or two before our arrival. These emigrants—Ross, Smirnov, Oelsnitz, Holstein and Rally—left Russia recently: four after they were expelled from higher education institutions for student unrest, and the fifth—Rally—fled from administrative exile in the Nechaev case. Among the sudden surge of green youth, they were old-timers and, as it were,
veterans of the colony, far superior to us in education, experience and political development. Having met Bakunin in Switzerland, who lived in Locarno, Oelsnitz, Holstein, Rally and Ross formed, on Bakunin’s initiative, a circle of anarchists, the “five,” which included Mikhail Alexandrovich himself. In their place of residence, Zurich, they founded among the Serbs and Bulgarians the Slavic section of the International, “Slavic curtains,” and among the Poles, a society called: “Association of Social Democratic Poles”1, with an anarchist program written by Bakunin. Some of the female students who arrived in Zurich before us had already rallied around the Bakunin circle of emigrants. Together with them, they managed the library, open to all students, and then helped organize the secret printing house that the Bakuninists planned to set up to publish the works of Mikhail Alexandrovich.
1 About the ephemeral existence and unsatisfactory composition of these two organizations, the programs of which were written by Bakunin himself, see Rally’s article in the collection “On the Past”: “From my memories of M. A. Bakunin,” 1908.
Thus, on the one hand, we found a fairly rich and well-chosen public library, protected from the invasion of new elements by the charter developed by the founders, and on the other, a completely ready-made, cohesive organization, protected from newcomers who had just arrived from Russia. Both played a big role both in the history of our spiritual development, and indeed all of our public life in Zurich. The library was a veritable silent school of propaganda. In addition to all kinds of books and periodicals generously sent from Russia in the name of young people studying abroad, the library contained an excellent collection of books and publications in French and German on all social issues, history and political economy. It presented all foreign prohibited Russian literature, and all the main best essays on Western European socialism. On the tables of the reading room in the Bremerschlüssel, the house where the library was located and many of the Bakuninist circle lived, one could find not only Russian magazines and newspapers, but also all the organs of the workers' press in Germany, Austria and Switzerland. The selection of books, newly published brochures and newspapers was such that it involuntarily focused attention on the social issue and the labor movement, which even then occupied a huge place in Western European life. Anyone who at home has not heard that socialism exists in the world and that there is a struggle between capital and capital, could not help but think about the tasks of workers' organizations, reading about conflicts in industry, about strikes, workers' unions, congresses of the International Society of Workers, etc. New thoughts and perspectives were opened to the mind, new interests were captured, and, through printing, we silently joined the great movement. In addition to satisfying their mental needs and their own need to follow the socialist movement, the older generation of the Zurich colony, of course, had in mind the educational influence on the newly arriving youth. And this goal was easily achieved both by the content of the library and thanks to the entire structure of the surrounding free life of the Swiss Republic. Abandoned to a foreign land because they did not trust the strength and competence of those courses of “scientific midwives” that were opened in St. Petersburg and constituted the embryo of the future Women's medical institute, removed from the gray everyday life of Russian life and the cooling influences of older family members, we naturally rushed towards the light, towards the world of new ideas that were unfolding before us. Everything was new and unexpected in the literature that we found in the library, just as everything was new and unexpected in the country of popular rule, about which only something could be read at home, but here in practice we learned in it the benefits of freedom of speech and organizations and saw high cultural level the people who took advantage of all this. The library and life showed that it was necessary to study not only medicine, but also social sciences. What is socialism? Where did it come from, what caused it, and what phases did it go through in its development? The labor question, the labor movement, the Lassallean General Labor Union in Germany, the trade unions of England, the trade union movement in Switzerland... The International, with its grandiose organization and program; the uprising and suppression of the Paris Commune; the uprising in Barcelona... everything was new, we were ignorant in everything, and the shortcomings in education needed to be replenished. Political economy, cultural history, the emergence of religion, family, property and the state - everything was about an unknown kingdom, and turning to all this was much more important than learning to speak logically in the absence of the overwhelming authority of men.
The students had some common material needs. Few of those who came to Zurich in 1872 belonged to wealthy families. With high tuition fees, especially for practical classes, and the high cost of textbooks, the vast majority of students had to observe the strictest economy on clothing, housing and food. But material issues passed us by. They had their own cheap kitchen, but it did not play any role in general life. The question of what to eat, what to drink and what to wear was of no concern to anyone. Another thing is the mental area: here everyone was in a hurry to get rich, and, it seems, there was no one who did not study in the library.
In addition to those organizations that have already been mentioned - the Bulgarian, Polish and the circle of anarchist-Bakuninists who held the library in their hands - the rest of the students were soon distributed in two directions. Senior students who specialized in training sessions and materially better furnished. They were jokingly dubbed the name of the calm-liberal-bourgeois party. The rest, mainly first-year students, were clearly radical and, striving for self-education in the socialist spirit, formed separate circles. Somehow, naturally, living in the same house or with the same landlady, those who sat next to each other at lectures, or at the same preparation in the anatomical hall, or studied anatomy and histology together, joined into groups for goals outside of medicine or other chosen specialty. The most prominent among the small and inconspicuous groups were two circles that later worked in Russia as revolutionary organizations. One circle consisted of the so-called “seniors”. It included three Zhebunev brothers, Glushkova, Blinova, Trudnitsky, Makarevich and Anna Rosenstein. The very name is humorous
which hinted at the tireless speakers of this circle, was given in parallel to the Saint-Simonists, about whose frantic disputes, even to the point of fainting, we read in the book about Enfantin and the Bazaar. All members of this circle later participated in the social revolutionary movement of the 70s and were tried in the “trial of the 193s.” Another circle, whose members were tried in the “trial of 50” in 1877, were “Fritsch” students who united near Bardina and received a collective name on behalf of the Swiss hostess with whom some of them lived. Participants in this circle were: my sister Lydia, Varvara Iv. Alexandrova (later Natanson), two sisters Lyubatovich, three sisters Subbotina, Kaminskaya, Toporkova, Aptekman, and later me. The circle set out to study the social issue, starting with political economy (according to Mill with notes by Chernyshevsky), and then the participants distributed among themselves the works of socialist theorists for review in historical order: one took Thomas Morus, the others Campanella, Robert Owen, Fourier, Cabet, Saint -Simon, Proudhon, Louis-Blanc, Lassalle. Then they studied the history of popular movements and revolutions in the same way. And in order to follow the modern workers' movement, they distributed among themselves socialist newspapers, German, Austrian, Swiss, so that at weekly circle meetings they could make reports on all the most important events in the working world.
LAVROV AND BAKUNIN
In the fall of 1872, P.L. Lavrov arrived in Zurich, having emigrated three years earlier from administrative exile in the Vologda province. His arrival, as the author of “Historically Letters”, as a scientist and emigrant, created a great sensation in the colony. He settled in the house where they lived: Smirnov, a library cashier, Idelson, a former librarian, and several girls from the “Fritch” community. The purpose of Lavrov’s visit was to found a secret Russian printing house and publish a magazine that took the name “Forward.”
The idea of publishing an illegal magazine abroad had existed among Russian emigrants two years before. In 1870, when meeting with Bakunin, she occupied the emigrant Ross (M. P. Sazhin), a member of the aforementioned Zurich “five” anarchists. At the same time, they decided to involve Lavrov in the publication, giving him the philosophy department. In this sense, Bakunin, through Ross, sent a letter to Lavrov to Paris. But Lavrov told Ross that he categorically refused the offer, hoping, on the one hand, for the opportunity to return to Russia, and on the other, due to a fundamental difference in views with Bakunin.
Then a change happened. Lavrov himself conceived the idea of publishing the magazine and upon his arrival in Zurich in 1872, according to Sazhin1, he began to seek the participation of anarchists in his future magazine and in negotiations with Ross, who was closely associated with Bakunin, first offered cooperation, and then even joint editing of the magazine.
Ross went to Locarno with this proposal, and Bakunin, although with displeasure, agreed, yielding to Ross’s arguments that Lavrov had connections with writers and public figures in Russia, and in case of irreconcilable views, he could always leave the magazine.
The matter, however, did not take place: in Zurich, at a meeting with Lavrov, in the presence of his supporters Smirnov and Podolinsky, on the one hand, and like-minded people Ross-Oelsnitz and Rally, on the other, Lavrov, unexpectedly for Ross, announced that he was refusing the proposal made and cannot, has no right to share the editing of the journal with anyone. After this, Bakunin’s supporters left the meeting, and all negotiations were interrupted: Lavrov and Smirnov became the head of the future “Forward”, and Ross and his comrades Elsnitz, Rally and Golyshein hastened to implement their project of founding their own printing house in Zurich in order to immediately begin printing Bakunin’s book : "Statehood and Anarchy".
Thus, two printing houses were formed in Zurich, which later published two series of publications that revealed revolutionary trends characteristic of the 70s: propaganda, whose representative was Lavrov, and rebellious, christened by the name of Bakunin. Near each printing house there was its own group of female students, and soon the entire Zurich colony split into two hostile parts. The reason for this was the Russian library, or more precisely, the question of its management.
A small group of young emigrants, of whom Ross was the first founder of the library, developed and adopted its charter as a public institution, back in an era when the number of students in Zurich was small. Consisting of people who had already decided, they wanted to give the library a general educational character and at the same time turn it into a school for developing a socialist worldview. To ensure this character of the Zurich book depository, they created rules that placed all management of the library in the hands of library members, which were themselves and those whom, through voting, they then co-opted as those who approached them in the direction. On the other hand, anyone who wanted to use the library's books could, for a fee, sign up as a reader, just as is done in ordinary commercial libraries.
All management and conduct of library business, such as: relations with Russia (with editorial offices, publishing houses and private donors), selection and issuance of newspapers, magazines and books, management of all library funds, selection officials, control over the conduct of affairs, the selection of new members, etc. - everything was exclusively in the hands of the “members,” and the mass of readers remained completely powerless, having the right only to express their “wishes” in a book specially placed in the reading room for this purpose. Meanwhile, with the arrival of many women in 1872, the numerical ratio (and, accordingly, the influx of library funds) between the members, on the one hand, and the reading public, on the other, became completely incongruous: there were 20-23 members, and 100-100 readers. 120 people.
At first, upon arrival, no one looked closely at their rights or their lack of rights - everyone was so happy to unexpectedly find in Switzerland a library with Russian newspapers, magazines, and a large selection of good Russian and foreign books. Without this it would be difficult to exist and, probably, we would immediately have to collectively think about such an institution. And everyone was in a hurry to take advantage of what their predecessors had created, especially since the composition of the library did not leave much to be desired.
But little by little, the abnormality was revealed that the library, considered public, replenished with donations from Russia and funds from readers, is the work of a circle, and the majority of the students in whose name it is created remain a passive element in their own work. As we grew up intellectually and socially, which the library itself greatly contributed to, the removal of all of us from the common cause seemed increasingly strange. The fear that the library might change direction and become a narrowly scientific or light reading library if all subscribers were allowed to manage it was unfounded due to the obvious sympathy for socialism on the part of all student youth. “Equalization of rights” became a slogan among us, and the need to impose on the “members” of the library the demand for equalization became the subject of lively agitation. Bardina wrote a hot article in this sense in the book of complaints, as we called the book of statements, which was in the reading room. Taking as an epigraph a beautiful phrase from Op. Lassalle: “Der Sturm brach los, das Volk stand auf,” she, on behalf of all “readers,” formulated the general discontent and put forward the fairness of the demand for equal responsibilities and equal rights.
Our wishes seemed so clear and just that we expected the members to make a concession public opinion and they will not want to remain a small clique, arousing general displeasure. An ultimatum was drawn up and presented to the library board for consideration at a general meeting of members. In case of refusal to equalize rights, we, the readers, decided to leave the library and found our own on the basis of equality.
According to the charter, at the general meeting of members, readers had the right to be present as the public. Therefore, on the decisive day, the hall in Bremerschlüssel was full of fully mobilized forces of both sides. At one end of the table there were 20-23 active members, and a hundred dissatisfied people filled the rest of the space. There was no long debate, because the members knew very well all the displeasures and demands, and the decision not to give in was already a foregone conclusion for the majority of them. So, amid the general excitement, our desire was met with a refusal, and when we heard: “No!”, all the indignation poured out. Amid the roar of indignation, someone said: “Gentlemen! We are all leaving this library and organizing our own new one now! Then, as if on cue, everyone moved out. In vain Ross jumped up on the table and, gesticulating, tried to say something, thinking to keep the audience. No one listened, considering the matter resolved.
On the street, it was decided to immediately hold a meeting to make further decisions. Several people ran forward, quickly rented a room and returned to indicate it. The meeting, which was attended by Lavrov, who until then had not interfered in our dispute, was crowded and lively; his goal was to equip the material side of the new library necessary for everyone. It was decided that all the books that anyone had in their hands should not be handed over to the old library, but, as public property, should be transferred to the new institution. The cashier of the old library (Smirnov) and the librarian (Idelson) were on our side all the time and left Bremerschlüssel with us. They stated that they would give us the money and books they had. So we got those 10 pounds of books that had just arrived as a donation from Russia. A subscription list was launched for the purchase of books and was immediately filled with significant sums. At the moment of general upsurge, a proposal was made to provide the newborn institution with permanent premises and for this, no more, no less, to buy a house. The subscription to this enterprise immediately yielded 10-15 thousand francs, and the main contribution was made by the wealthy Oryol landowners, the Subbotins, from the circle of “Fritches”. At this founding meeting, P.L. Lavrov, who was present, expressed solidarity with us, although until then he had not taken any part in the ferment against the autocratic disposal of the library by a group of Bremerschlusselites.
The house, indeed, was bought some time later: small, two-story, it was located in an alley adjacent to Plattenstrasse, where most of the female students lived. It cost 90 thousand francs or so, but since it was mortgaged, the additional payment in cash was no more than 10 or 12 thousand. The colony then only had to pay the interest; they were covered by the payment for the rooms on the upper floor, which were rented, and the payment for the premises of the library and kitchen, located below. Downstairs all subsequent public meetings, lectures, etc. took place. Many of the “Fritchs” moved to the upper floor; I also lived there.
In the Russian House, life was in full swing. There was an audience downstairs every evening. P. L. Lavrov gave his lectures on the history of thought here. He immediately proposed and began teaching a course in higher mathematics, which ended in tears: the group of students, initially quite large, began to melt away by leaps and bounds, and when there were only three of them left, then, at the suggestion of the lecturer himself, the classes were stopped.
In the evenings, something like a club was formed - people who wanted to talk about something gathered. Sometimes Lavrov also came by. But more often there were various business meetings about the library, the kitchen, or about various projects that were proposed to the colony in abundance by some amateurs. Thus, the issue of organizing a labor office was discussed. There was no basis for this, since the student body at that time, although not generously, was still provided with funds from Russia; there was neither demand for our work in Zurich, nor connections in Russia for any kind of literary income; So the whole thing ended in talk. The same initiators thought that it was necessary to set up various workshops in the Russian House. I can’t say - for earning money, or for physical exercise? It seems, for the sake of the principle of combining mental labor with physical labor. The project, after lengthy debates, remained in vain: no workshops were opened, and, probably, they would have been empty, since university classes took up a lot of time, and this is precisely what we all came to Switzerland for. There were also many speeches about the unification of all Russian students living abroad. But this was also an empty matter. In Switzerland at that time, besides Zurich, there were two students only in Bern; In Paris, too, only two Russians studied. In general, judging by the recent number of Russians in higher educational institutions in Belgium, France, Germany, Italy and Switzerland, it is difficult to imagine how few there were in the early 70s. It would only be necessary to unite single individuals scattered here and there in Europe.
Finally, when an uprising under the flag of anarcho-federalism took place in Barcelona, there was also a meeting on this occasion, and it equipped an intelligence officer in order to have a primary source that would provide information about the course of events and the extent of the spread of the movement. As far as I remember, our delegate left for Spain as if he had disappeared into the water and never brought us any information.
All our discussions took a lot of time, and the Friches were reluctant to participate in this crush. But I won't
but she was present, and sometimes with scandal. So, one day I was elected chairman, and, despite resistance, I had to take a seat at the chairman's table. Endless speeches flowed: proposals, counter-proposals, comments and objections. The future doctoress, Mrs. S., spoke long and boringly, and, frankly, there was a lot of nonsense in this verbiage. The chairwoman listened for a long time, but finally could not stand it and, hitting the table with her fist, said: “What a fool.” There was confusion. S., addressing the meeting, protested that the chairwoman was scolding. Needless to say, I myself was embarrassed by my lack of restraint, and hastened to declare that, not having the patience and calmness necessary to preside, I ask you to choose someone else instead of me. After that, I was forever freed from the unpleasant post and sat modestly in the ranks of the public.
Another time L made a big awkward mistake at a club. One of the “freaks” gave me the initial program for the illegal publication undertaken by Lavrov. The enormous difference between it and the program that later formed the basis of “Forward” - both of which were written by Lavrov himself - outraged me to the extreme. The latter spoke of a social revolution that would change the entire system of life of mankind, and the first, without touching on economic issues, was politically constitutional and distinguished by complete moderation: requiring cultural training of youth before the start of any propaganda among the people, this program recognized that the prosecutor and the judicial investigator can be useful in serving the people. Considering that the magazine's program should be a confession of faith of its compiler, I could not reconcile the differences in the content of the two programs. It seemed to me impossible that in the shortest possible time one and the same person could propose, believe and defend such different views. I was outraged by this volte-face from the head of the magazine; I saw in him insincerity and a complete lack of firm conviction. And so, with youthful straightforwardness and frankness, holding in my hands the ill-fated lithographed first program, I turned to Lavrov at the club in front of everyone with a naive question: how to combine this program with the content of the latest program “Forward”? Having blurted this out, I immediately saw that I had made a tactlessness: an awkward silence ensued; then Pyotr Lavrovich, it seemed to me, not without some confusion, said: “This is not the place to discuss this.” I realized that the question was unpleasant, so I didn’t raise it later in a private conversation, and Pyotr Lavrovich also never returned to it1.
1 The history of the three programs written by Lavrov can be read in his book: “Populists-propagandists of 73-78.” Comp. also Rally’s article in the collection “About the Past” (1908), under the title: “From my memories of Bakunin,” pp. 290-292, and Vitya-zev (“The Voice of the Past,” book 10, 1915).
The existence of three programs (since, in addition to the two mentioned, there was also a third, intermediate between the first and last) worried the Zurich colony quite a bit, causing bewilderment and dissatisfaction not only with me. Lavrov himself in his book “Populists-Propagandists of 73-78” writes about them: “I was strongly attacked for these three different “Forward” programs. These attacks would be completely justified only if these programs had the same goal in mind in all three cases. But the matter was completely different. The first program was the program of the proposed publication, emanating from the Russian literary radicalism of the GO-x years, now acting as a militant party, and underground literature in 72. The editor's personal opinions were a secondary element here. The second program was the program of the publication, which, not submitting to many points of Bakunism of 1972, intended to preserve the unity of the social revolutionary movement in Russia in a fundamental sense: the personal views of the editor could appear in it only to the extent that they did not harm this unity . Only the third program was the personal program of the editor, who took full and exclusive responsibility for the publication of one and the failure to publish the other" (p. 61. P. L. Lavrov. "Populists-propagandists of 73-78". Rosenfeld Publishing House. Pb., 1907 .).
If these lines had been published at the same time, in 1873, they still would not have eliminated the attacks, because they would have left unshakable the fact that Pyotr Lavrovich agreed to be the editor of journals of three different directions and personally compiled programs for them.
The above-described demonstrative episode at the club did not spoil, however, my future relationship with Pyotr Lavrovich. Once a week he had zhurfixes, which attracted 8-10 people; I was among them too. The visitors were always the same; of the men, Prince Alexander Kropotkin, brother of Pyotr Alekseevich, and of the female students, “Frits.” Boredom has always reigned on the zhurfixes: not a single one has ever risen general issue, there was not a single interesting theoretical debate. We didn’t know how to approach the old scholar and were embarrassed by both his age and his learning - only there was no simple-minded gaiety or work for thought during these tense evenings. The conversation was most animated when Pyotr Lavrovich unexpectedly announced that I. S. Turgenev intended to come to Zurich to meet foreign students in order to stock up on material for his planned novel. Lavrov said that he was thinking of introducing us, those present, to the famous writer. Here all of us, how many of us there were, shouted and waved our hands, declaring that we did not want such “shows” and would never go to Turgenev. The resistance was so energetic and unanimous that, for one reason or another, the project collapsed: Turgenev never arrived from Paris, and we did not get into the novel. The novel that Turgenev was going to write later resulted in “Nov”1.
1 Reading this novel at one time, I was amazed at the fidelity of the types drawn in it. Although I.S. did not meet any of the “Fritches,” his Mashurina was the spitting image of Vera Lyubatovich, whom we nicknamed “Little Wolf” for her harshness, and Marianna was very reminiscent of my sister Lydia.
Generally speaking, there were few personal influences on young people in Zurich. This will seem strange next to such names as Bakunin, Lavrov. And yet it is so: the influence of ideas was what was powerful. Everyone was distant from Pyotr Lavrovich, except Smirnov, Idelson, who lived with him in the same apartment, medical student Ginzburg, who lived in Zurich for quite a long time, and Podolinsky, whom Lavrov mentions more than once in his memoirs. Lavrov's personality was treated with respect, but there was neither warmth nor fervor. Another thing is Bakunin. We cherished him in our souls as an indomitable revolutionary fighter, and not a thinker. He, and no one else, aroused enthusiasm, and in general it can be said that all of us, right down to the “Fritches” who typed the first volume of “Forward,” were anti-stateists in the Bakunin sense and were carried away by the poetry of destruction in his leaflets and brochures. Under the influence of his articles, we believed in the creative forces of the popular masses, which, shaking off the oppression of state despotism with a mighty impulse, would spontaneously create on the ruins of the old system new, just forms of life, the ideal of which instinctively lives in the soul of the people. Distance separated us from the global rebel and destroyer: he lived in Locarno, where only close followers and students from the early Russian colony visited him from Zurich. Sometimes, however, he himself came to Zurich: after all, he had friends from Bremerschlussel, and in the hands of Ross, Rally and Co. there was a printing house for printing his works. But all this was behind the backs of the general public, hidden from their eyes by careful secrecy. First, the story with the old library, with the Bremerschlüssels who remained faithful to it, and then the soon following beating of Smirnov, who was on our side, by Sokolov, who came to Smirnov’s apartment for explanations about Sokolov’s book “Renegades” with two Bremerschlüssels companions (Svetlovsky and Ralli) , not only created an impassable gap between the warring camps, but also completely cut us off from personal communication with the one who was then the most desirable teacher for us. Like a majestic shadow, he passed somewhere near us in Zurich. I saw his colossal figure with a lion’s head only once, briefly, on the street1.
1 My Fritz friends were happier: they went to the congress in Saint-Imier, at which Bakunin spoke
But it doesn’t matter: love and surprise for him never ceased to live in us. Thus, in the history of the Russian revolutionary colony in Zurich, it happened that the Bakuninists, in terms of ideas and temperament, were grouped around Lavrov, and not around Bakunin, and helped the publication “Forward”, and did not work in the printing house that printed Bakunin’s works.
EXTRADITION OF NECHAYEV
In the fall of 1872, thanks to the betrayal of the Pole Stempkovsky, Nechaev was arrested in Zurich and then extradited to the Russian government. The student mass knew absolutely nothing about Nechaev’s stay in Zurich and his underground activities. The news that the Russian government was demanding the extradition of Nechaev fell on us like snow, and surprisingly, despite our slight excitability, it did not cause any particular excitement. Only persons close to Bakunin who had relations with Nechaev when he was hiding in Zurich began to stir. They issued a short appeal to the "Swiss people" on German and convened meetings of workers to protest against the arrest and to explain the political nature of Nechaev’s activities, for which he should not have been subject to extradition to Russia. Everything was in vain: the agitation was of absolutely insignificant proportions and could not have any influence on the Swiss government. A month passed, during which negotiations took place between the federal authorities of the Swiss Republic and representatives of the autocratic Russian Empire, and on the basis of the promise that Nechaev would be tried as a criminal for the murder of Ivanov, he was extradited and taken to Russia. There was a rumor between us that on the way from prison to the station an attempt was being made to recapture Nechaev, and in Rally’s memoirs there is an indication that he was supposed to take part in this matter, but Bakunin did not sympathize with the attempt and removed Rally from Zurich, giving him an assignment in Iasi1 .
1 Collection “About the Past”, article by Rally, p. 335.
Surrounded on all sides by armed guards, Nechaev was escorted to the station without incident, and his fate was accomplished. Of the students, only one Yuzhakova was very worried, who was both then and since an ardent Jacobin; The rest of us, one might say, didn’t lift a finger. Were we not politically developed enough to actively respond in one way or another to the ongoing violation of the right to asylum in the republic, in the country? free people, or it depended on the fact that we felt moral disgust for the bloody affair in the grotto of Petrovsko-Razumovsky Park - it’s hard to say. The latter, perhaps, is more correct, because no one at that time believed that the murdered Ivanov was a traitor, and Nechaev’s policy, his “end justifies the means,” absolutely repelled all young people from him. No one had any sympathy for Nechaev, as a person of known moral character. Rise above the condemnation of Nechaev as a public figure and person, rise into name of the right, against the hypocrisy of the government of a powerful state and the treachery of a weak one, in that era we were apparently unable to.
Thus ended this sad story, in which we showed complete indifference.
1 Currently, a magnificent monograph about Nechaev has appeared, compiled by P. Shchegolev and depicting the tragic personality of Nechaev in full growth (see “Red Archive”, books 3 and 4).
VACAT 1873
The spring holiday was a fun interlude. Having put away our histology and physiology textbooks, we, 8 students, boarded the train and headed out of Zurich to spend several weeks in a new environment. I don’t know why we chose Neuchâtel, which is not at all particularly picturesque, as the goal of our trip. Perhaps this city was attractive because an outstanding member of the International, James Guillaume, lived there, whom the “Frits” met at the anarchist congress in St. Imier. However, we thought of settling not in Neuchâtel itself, but somewhere in the surrounding area, which we planned to travel on foot.
Upon arrival in Neuchâtel, the first thing we had to do was satisfy the ravenous appetite of the young travelers. We entered the restaurant, completely empty, and sat around the table in a homely manner. After the soup, the second course is served: what a miracle? all some small, white legs. The back and with it a pair of white legs. Is it some kind of bird? - we are perplexed. Are they really tiny chickens? “Something suspicious...” grumbles the youngest Lyubatovich. “Have they really destroyed so many young chickens?” Kaminskaya lamented.
Some of the “freaks” had nicknames: the youngest Lyubatovich was called the little wolf for her gloomy, sullen look and constant swearing at the devil and the bourgeoisie. The eldest was jokingly called a shark for her insatiable appetite; Aptekman was nicknamed a hussar for his courageous appearance, and Bardina was called an aunt for her solidity and diplomatic abilities.
Bardina puts her pince-nez on her pointed nose and asks a question. In response we hear:
Se sont des grenouilles, madame!
Of course, no one touched the frogs, and the owner took the dish away, surprised that we neglected such a delicacy.
Rising quite lightly from the table and laughing at our ignorance about frogs, we set out in a herd around the neighborhood, accompanied by a flock of street boys who, at the sight of our “hussar,” shouted:
Se n"est pas une femme-c"est un homme!..
3 - 4 kilometers from the city, on the shores of Lake Bienne, we found ourselves in the town of Lutry. The village is small, nondescript, and the lake is the worst of all the lakes seen in Switzerland. The shores are deprived of the best decoration of the Swiss mountain landscape, and the water has neither the blue nor the green color characteristic of the lake waters of this country. But, no matter how insignificant the village, it turned out to be a boarding house for young girls, in this moment dissolved for vacat. We called here. A person came out who looked like a classy lady from our institutes: an old maid, wearing glasses, with a pedagogically stern expression on her face: Mlle Auguste, the headmistress and director of the boarding house.
None of us were over 21 years old, many had short hair and dangled younger than their years - they could, perhaps, pass for a fresh brood of the same boarders about whom Mademoiselle Auguste took care. Having examined us with a critical eye and asked who we were and what our intentions were, she went to consult with her mother, a good-natured old woman who managed the economic part of this educational institution, and returned with a favorable answer. For a very reasonable fee we settled in this quiet monastery young souls. We had a dormitory at our disposal - two rooms with 8 beds; We dined in the dining room, where we were fed rather poorly, and could spend the whole day in the garden. Crowded in the dormitory, we were not burdened by the cramped space, and it was fun, lying in bed, chatting and joking in the evening and morning, bullying each other. The arrows were sometimes directed at the "aunt", sometimes at the "wolf cub", but most often at the "hussar", from whom we found funny oddities.
Hussar! What time is it? - someone shouts from under the blanket in the morning.
The hussar is silent, although he is not sleeping and the clock is close to him.
Hussar! - the wolf cub growls, - answer! Hussar-ni gu-gu. The exclamations double... In vain. Finally, like the hiss of an ancient wall clock, to the friendly laughter of the entire colony, the following is heard:
You know, I don’t speak in the morning!..
But only. What time it is remains unknown.
In Neuchâtel there was a section of the International, headed by the already mentioned Guillaume, a high school teacher by profession. Together with Schwitzgebel and Spiehger, he led the Jura Federation of the International Workers' Society in Switzerland. Six months before, in September 1872, a general congress of the International took place in The Hague, which had enormous significance for its entire subsequent history. The Congressists, by a majority vote, emphasized the need for political activity for the proletariat, strengthened the power of the General Council of the International, but at the same time decided to transfer its seat to New York. Severely condemning the Alliance de la democratic socialist e, a secret organization that Bakunin established within the International Society, the Hague Congress expelled both Bakunin and Guillaume from the membership of the society. The Jura Federation, which was the brainchild of these two figures, protested against all decisions of the congress and became the center around which, little by little, all those dissatisfied with the policies of the general council, which was ruled by Laris, were grouped, especially those federations that, under the influence of the anarchist ideas of Bakunin, completely excluded any participation of the working class in politics (Italian, Spanish, Belgian federations). And if Santo maestro - Bakunin - had a whole galaxy of students and ardent followers in Italy and Spain (Malatesta, Costa, Cafiero, Fanelli, Alerini, Farga, etc.), then in French Switzerland right hand his was the historian of the International, James Guillaume, in whom, along with his devotion to Bakunin, even time did not extinguish his burning hatred of Karl Marx.
At that time, in German Switzerland, the International was poorly developed, and the movement of the working class went more towards trade unions and Bildungsverein. In this area, even then, Grölich, a so famous member of the Federal Council of the Swiss Republic, occupied an outstanding place. In Zurich, which is far away was not such a large industrial center as it is now, I don’t even remember that, in addition to the Slavic section of the International, there was also a Swiss one. In Bern, where I moved, there were about 7-8 workers, no more. Meanwhile, its organizer was a very active, educated French exile, Brousse, who studied medicine at the same time as me at the University of Bern, and the famous Elisée Reclus, who made a charming impression with his personality, visited the section. The International was more widespread in French Switzerland, concentrating in the area occupied by watch production. Sections of Locle, Chaux-de-Fonds, Sonvilliers, Neuchâtel and others made up the Jura Federation, which at one time, thanks to the central position of Switzerland, was almost the main center of the anarchist International. It was here that the main figures were Schwitzgebel, Spihiger and James Guillaume. A thin figure, with large, regular features, inspired by an expression of meek sadness, Guillaume made an attractive impression. The Neuchâtel section, in which he was the main figure, did not have a large number of members. But only given the current size of the labor movement does this seem insignificant, but then everything seemed grandiose and extremely promising to us. From Lutry to Neuchâtel it’s a stone’s throw, how could one not go to a section meeting to listen to Guillaume and the debates that would take place between the workers, and then disperse to the singing of the revolutionary “Carmagnola”.
And so, one ill-fated evening, our friends actually went to Neuchâtel. There were only two people left at home - me and someone else. And a scandal ensued throughout Lutry: Russian views came into conflict with Swiss morals. The section meeting began, of course, no earlier than 8-8 1/2 o'clock in the evening, when the working day and dinner ended, and lasted until 11. And then we had to walk another 3-4 kilometers to get to Lutri. Our village is already drowned in darkness: after all, villagers everywhere go to bed early. The lights in our guesthouse also went out. The village bell tower struck 10, the fateful hour when all decent people in Switzerland should be in bed. But our young ladies are still gone. Half past 11... 11... The alarmed mlle Auguste comes to us, and the explanation begins. It is indecent for young girls to walk at night. Our friends are compromising not only themselves, but also the educational institution that sheltered them... Who would want to send their daughter to the Mlle Auguste boarding school after such a scandal? It’s twelve o’clock, it’s almost midnight, and still no young ladies have been accepted into the house...
As luck would have it, a thunderstorm rises and the rain begins to kick the ground. Mlle Auguste's mother cannot sleep from anxiety... The empty house, in which frightened figures constantly run to the windows, seems to be filled with electricity. We, the two remaining ones, upon whose heads all the complaints and cries of well-meaning Swiss teachers have been thrown, are getting into a nervous mood ourselves; what the hell - did something really happen to the belated travelers?! We can't wait for them.
Finally they arrive, excited and wet... And a whole stream of reproaches falls on frivolous heads. None of the “auntie’s” diplomatic skills, which always helped us out in difficult times, seemed to help in this delicate situation, and, if I’m not mistaken, we were asked to leave as soon as possible quiet abode, into which we introduced such a terrible violation of social customs. Or perhaps the incident was forgotten, since we only thought of staying in Lutry for a short time.
But this is what the power of persuasion means: the “hussar” began to propagate Mlle Auguste, and she soon became attached to the Russian girl and was converted to socialism. The scarecrow of nihilism, so sharply manifested in the return of young students home after midnight, was destroyed, and later Mlle Auguste was ready for Aptekman to do any kind of service, even if it was illegal.
GOVERNMENT DECREE. THE END OF ZURICH
Emma’s words at a meeting of the women’s verein that all of Europe was looking at us sounded comical, but that society and youth in Russia were interested in the Zurich colony and, in the person of individual representatives, were drawn to it was an indisputable fact. The personalities of Bakunin and Lavrov, with whom one could meet in Zurich, their publishing activities, along with the rich free Russian library, attracted many; Others were attracted to get acquainted with Russian students abroad and, perhaps, to look for comrades among them for activities in Russia. It is enough to mention P. A. Kropotkin, whose first acquaintance with socialism occurred in Zurich, where his relative studied; Dr. Kadyan, economist Sieber, Professor Preobrazhensky, the famous St. Petersburg teacher J. Kovalsky and many others visited Zurich, and on the other hand, Kovalik, Kablitz, V. Debogory-Mokrievpch also lived there for some time. Gradually, Zurich became a kind of intellectual revolutionary center, which not a single Russian intellectual who found himself abroad wanted to pass by. But, in addition to benevolent eyes, the government’s watchful eye was also fixed on Zurich. And so, amid the general excitement, when life in Zurich was in full swing, public institutions stood firmly on their feet, both secret printing houses worked energetically, and the youth enjoyed all the freedoms of the small republic that sheltered them, enjoyed them cheerfully, noisily and carefree, as if they were here and was born and will remain forever, - suddenly thunder struck and completely destroyed the Zurich colony.
At the end of the spring semester of 1873, a message regarding Zurich female students appeared in the Government Gazette. Hypocritically sympathizing with the passions of young people for revolutionary, communist ideas and having bad memories of essays about Stenka Razin and the Paris Commune, the government prohibited female students from further staying in Zurich and, if they persisted, threatened to prevent them from taking exams in Russia.
The impression from this order was depressing. The purpose for which we had come to Zurich and for which so much effort had been made was being taken away. The expenditure of effort turned out to be in vain - in the future we were deprived of the opportunity to practically apply the acquired knowledge; our plans for social activities were being destroyed... Moreover, the government message did not stop at dirty slander and publicly announced that, under the guise of science, students were engaged in free love and applying their medical knowledge to exterminate the consequences of this love... We, who studied in Zurich, They were most offended by this accusation. The fact that we were expelled from Zurich and forced to leave and quit our studies at the university was difficult and bitter, but did not affect our honor. Having thought about the business side of the issue and having read the text of the government order, we easily found an opportunity to circumvent the threat: the circular mentioned only Zurich. In the future, only those who remained there would lose their rights; not a word was said about other foreign universities. Moving to other cities and continuing the course there was a decision that suggested itself. It was accepted by those who wanted to continue studying abroad. But it seemed impossible to swallow the accusation of immorality in silence, and we certainly wanted to protest against the slander, to protest publicly, through the press. A general meeting of female students was convened. Again we were only women, but we had gathered not to learn to speak logically, but to shout: “Don’t slander!”
